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saintobio · 10 days

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ACT I. THE LADY

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), slight mentions of gore

♱ notes. 6.5k wc, unedited. again, for anyone who missed my small announcement, the ‘juliet’ from my megumi r+j fic has a name here for narration purposes. she remains as you or yn in the original fic tho :) feedback would be highly appreciated!

series masterlist ♱ act two.

“I humbly beg your pardon, Your Imperial Highness. The lady declines any audience at this time.”

Throughout his princely life, Satoru had never before faced rejection from any of his subjects, let alone one of his own citizens. No one ever dared to deny the Crown Prince as they were aware of the consequences of offending a member of the imperial family, let alone the future Emperor of Caelum.

So, how could this mere daughter of a duke summon the courage to refuse his audience?

It was baffling to him. Were you not the one who had written him a lovestruck letter requesting a meeting? As one of the eligible brides for the Crown Prince and a strong contender for the position of Crown Princess, it was only natural for you to vie for his affection and secure your spot on the imperial throne. You had it all; the status, the power, the wit. You had quite the face, too. This would have been an opportune moment for you to ensnare his favor and win him over. Yet, what reason could you possibly have now to suddenly decline his audience?

“On what grounds did she refuse?” Satoru maintained a stern demeanor as he stood beside his white horse, scrutinizing the servant from the De Roma estate who trembled before the prince. His blue velvet cloak and imperial insignia added to the overall intimidation of his presence.

The maid, mindful of the perils that may befall her for the actions of her master, spake with evident apprehension. “The lady offered no explanation, Your Highness. She simply wishes to remain in her chamber.”

Needless to say, he felt a mixture of amusement and intrigue at this situation. The same noble lady who had previously been forward in her advances and infatuation towards him was now avoiding an opportunity to get acquainted? And to think, he had believed he was doing you a favor by granting you a chance to spend time with him this noontide.

“Very well.” The prince gazed down at the servant with a stern expression, raking his slender fingers through his arctic white hair before mounting his war horse. “Remind the lady that there are consequences for denying the rights of the imperial family. Each slight she casts is an arrow to her neck. Let her know that there shall not be another chance such as this.”

He sensed the maid’s fear after she offered him a curtsy, yet he could not fathom how she remained steadfast in her refusal to grant him access to your drawing room despite his clearly spoken warning. She was guarding the entrance to the estate as though she would face greater consequences for letting the crown prince in than for keeping him out. Were you truly so stringent in maintaining your distance from him?

So be it. If that was your game, then let it be played. In fact, you might be trying to seem hard-to-get after the stunts you had pulled at the hunting expedition two weeks hence. If his memory served him right, you were the one who sabotaged Lady Anastasia’s crossbow and led her in her near-fatal experience. You see, you might have gotten away with it, but Satoru was a witness to your deliberate crime. He had seen you tampering with Lady Anastasia’s weapon, replacing her regular bolts with ones laced with fast-acting poison, which left the poor lady paralyzed in the middle of a dangerous hunt. Had it not been for Satoru, Lady de Florentine would have likely been mauled by a wild boar.

Yet, his intervention only seemed to stoke your ire even more. Your jealousy after seeing him save Anastasia’s life only made you see red, almost revealing yourself the true perpetrator for the obvious expressions you had displayed. Still, he chose to remain silent about your malicious actions, pretending to be oblivious to your cunning ways and dismissing any suspicions of foul play in the incident. In a way, Satoru had saved your life more than you realized. Not only that, he had also safeguarded your reputation and standing in high society without your knowledge, as he understood that your animosity towards Lady Anastasia only stemmed from the way he had interacted with her, speaking in close proximity and kissing her hand prior to the hunting game.

Ha! What a devious little viper you were. What a brazenly proud woman. By declining to meet the Crown Prince, you had only ironically succeeded in piquing his interest even more.

“Is everything in order, Your Highness?” It was his close friend and personal knight, Suguru, who snapped him out of his reverie as they rode their horses back toward the capital. Three more of the prince’s knights trailed behind them. Suguru’s question hinted at concern for the prince’s sanity, given that he had been observed laughing to himself despite the insult he had faced just half an hour ago.

“It is rather amusing, is it not?” Satoru pondered, his hands firmly gripping the reins as he guided his horse along the uneven path. “Lady Y/N might seem out of her wits, but she is astute. I see through her tactics. She obviously desires my attention, which is why she is behaving this way.”

The long-haired knight chuckled with unease. “I fear that may not be her intention.”

The notion appeared absurd to him. “Not her intention? Grant her but a moment, and she shall trail after me once more like a shadow. This is a blessing, if anything. I am now spared the need to endure that lady’s temperament during formal events.”

Did you realize? Despite numerous instances where Satoru overlooked your transgressions, if you were to provoke his ire, he could surely publicly enumerate each offense. The stained dress incident involving Lady Serena? Your handiwork. The scandalous rumors regarding Lady Franchetta? Also your doing. Not to mention your mistreatment of maids and commoners out of mere boredom. Your actions would have easily rendered you an unsuitable candidate as the Crown Prince’s bride, yet he remained silent and never reported such occurrences to his father, the emperor. More than that, he should be relieved that you had chosen to avoid him and spared him further entanglements with you.

However, Satoru’s words contradicted his own sentiments, and he refused to acknowledge his hypocrisy. Although he claimed satisfaction with your decision to keep your distance, why did thoughts of you arise foremost when he passed by a jewel shop that showcased its newest collections? He and his men were traversing the city square when his sky blue eyes caught sight of a necklace with a large, deep-red garnet as its centerpiece, surrounded by intricate gold filigrees, and a single teardrop-shaped pearl dangling at the bottom. The overall design was bold and commanding, yet undeniably elegant. A befitting accessory for Caelum’s next crown princess.

“Would you care to inspect the jewel shop, my lord?” proposed one of his knights. “That necklace could serve as a splendid gift for Lady Serena, who is soon to celebrate her birthday banquet.”

The prince saw his reflection in the shop’s window, his white steed poised gracefully while he gazed at the jewelry on display. A smirk unanticipatedly graced his lips as he envisioned a particular scenario in his head. “Indeed.”

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Milena was cinching your corset when your father abruptly entered your chamber, his visage bearing a questioning mien as his footsteps loudened each second. You already anticipated the nature of his visit, for nothing else would prompt such urgency unless it pertained to your reputation. In retrospect, you remembered him having knowledge of your misdeeds against the other debutantes currying favor with the crown prince, and he was well aware of the details of your crafty schemes and all the deliberate sabotage you had orchestrated. And although your father often covered for you out of paternal pride, he still chastised you for your actions in private. The latter assuredly was the purpose of his visit now.

Well, dear father, your daughter is no longer the same.

“Maid,” commanded the duke, “Leave us for a while.”

Milena immediately bowed at your father. “Yes, Your Grace—”

“No, Milena. You will not take a single step out of this chamber.” Your order somehow surprised the both of them as though you had never sounded so authoritative before, like you had the imperial power and position to be issuing commands greater than your father’s. Ah, right. You were not an empress anymore. Or yet. None of these people were your subjects, and living in the past would really take some time getting used to. In an effort to conceal your years of imperial presence, you looked at your father with a gaze that suggested naivety. “What is the matter, father?”

Duke de Roma appeared visibly strained by his youngest child. “Y/N, is it true that you declined a visit from Crown Prince Satoru?”

You felt the urge to scoff, but opted against it. “Rejection is an understatement, Your Grace. My interest in His Highness has simply waned.”

“So soon?” The elderly man was perplexed by your assertion, considering your reputation as a notorious obsessive lover of the prince. You were perceived by all as the erratic woman who would engage in conflict with any rival who dared to court his affections. “What sudden change prompts you to speak ill of him? Were you not striving to win his favor?"

Yes, but that was before. That was the version of yourself who sacrificed everything for someone incapable of reciprocating the love you sought. Things have altered now, and you recognized it was wiser not to pursue Satoru after knowing and personally experiencing the peril it posed to both yourself and the empire. He would only seek to exploit your family’s military influence to stage a coup against his parents, beguile you with his false affections, and make use of you until you were no longer serving him any purpose. You refused to be complicit in his ambitions any longer. Not in this life, no.

“Rather,” you began with a voice of confidence, “I would choose being in a convent than to wed a man like His Highness.”

Your father nearly fainted from your words. “By Saint Peter’s keys! I cannot understand the youth of today. Tell me, is there another suitor who has captured your interest? Have you found another man more noble than a prince?”

With a smile, you looked at yourself in the mirror and prepared for the day ahead. “No, Father. On the contrary, I seek a life of solitude. If I could remain unwed for the entirety of my days, I would gladly embrace it.”

This, you believed, was the surest way to distance yourself from trouble and seek redemption for your past transgressions. A life without Crown Prince Satoru was the road to attaining highest virtue. Your love for him was the reason you had committed such sins in the past, so the best thing to do in this life was to steer yourself clear from his path at all cost. Otherwise, the thought of facing the piercing gaze of Archangel Raphael again was too daunting to bear.

“What folly is this?” Duke de Roma questioned your words incredulously. “Did you not aspire to become the most powerful lady in the empire? Pursuing the Crown Prince is the path to becoming an empress. Cease this nonsensical talk and continue your efforts to win his favor!”

Once he departed, you were left alone in your chamber, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration. You were tempted to let out a groan of exasperation, but with Milena present, you had to maintain your composure. It was crucial for her to witness your changed mindset. Gone was the vicious lady she had served in her previous life. Though you could not offer a direct apology for the role you played in her demise before, you were determined to ensure her comfort and well-being in this new life.

As for your father, you were uncertain what to do with him yet. He was coming from a place of concern, knowing that your decision to enter a convent would ultimately make his investments futile. He had invested heavily in your upbringing, providing you with every luxury, the finest education, and the resources necessary to secure a prominent place in high society. His aspirations for you to become an empress were not solely driven by paternal pride, but also by the anticipation of reaping the rewards of his investment. Losing such an asset would undoubtedly be a significant blow to his plans and ambitions. Yet, he had no single idea what suffering you had actually endured in your past life after becoming Satoru’s wife for 10 agonizing years.

Well, in that case, you had an alternative plan—one that promised to secure the De Roma family’s status and elevate its wealth to unreachable heights without necessitating your ascent to the imperial throne.

“Milena,” you said, walking towards your window, “Prepare the carriage. We have somewhere to be.”

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“Fifty celestas?!” Milena questioned in disbelief, her hooded cloak framing her face as she confronted the artist before you. Today, both of you dressed down, adopting a guise that would allow you to blend seamlessly with the throng of commoners in the outskirts of the capital. “Signor, are you not asking for an exorbitant sum? You are exploiting My Lady merely because she is the daughter of Duke de Roma.”

It was a mistake bringing Milena with you, but it also served as a good signifier that the artist, Giancarlo di Firenze, was still operating in an era where his talent and skill as a sculptor had yet to be recognized. In the eyes of others, he was a struggling artist whose work warranted no more than a few trinkets. However, you possessed the advantage of foresight, bestowed upon you by your gift of clairvoyance (or in layman’s terms, a cheat sheet into the future due to your regression). You knew that Maestro Giancarlo’s sculptures would eventually gain widespread acclaim, particularly after they were displayed at the Veneran Museum, and he would be the most sought after artist in the continent with pieces worth thousands. Even your then-husband, the emperor himself, commissioned him for the notable Star Crossed Lovers sculpture for the ten year death anniversary of the prince and princess of the Astheryn and Caelum Empires. The 50 celestas Signor Giancarlo demanded now paled in comparison to the immense resale value his works would command in a decade’s time. This would be one of your best investments as a mere lady with no imperial wealth.

“Fifty celestas for this Apollo and Daphne sculpture seems a fair price,” you mused, scrutinizing each exquisite detail of the remarkable artwork. The sculpture was truly a masterpiece and very much deserving of admiration, which was why in your past life, it was highly coveted by The Venera for its sheer magnificence. However, you refrained from showering the Signor with excessive praise. To do so would only awaken him to the true value of his creations, and he could potentially inflate his prices beyond your budget. Thus, you maintained an air of indifference as you regarded the middle-aged sculptor. “It would make a suitable addition to our garden,” you casually added. “I shall purchase it.”

“My Lady!” protested Milena, but you silenced her with a gesture.

“In addition, I would like to acquire the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa and a selection of your cherubic sculptures,” you continued, disregarding Milena’s objections and the delighted expression on Maestro Giancarlo's face. “Pray, how much would the entire collection amount to?”

It was as if he had stumbled upon a treasure trove. The Signor’s eyes glistened with tears of joy as he responded to you. “Lady de Roma! What a blessing you have bestowed upon me,” he exclaimed, leaving you sympathetic towards his years of unacknowledged artistry. “The collection would fetch two-hundred celestas.”

Your maid, filled with concern, cried out in protest. “Preposterous! This is a swindle!”

Again, 200 celestas was a trifling sum compared to its prospective worth. Moreover, it was a price that would not significantly dent your finances as a noble lady. However, if you acquiesced to his initial offer without negotiation, he might infer that you would readily purchase any of his other works at its highest prices.

It was a simple game of chess, and he was merely one of your pawns.

“A hundred and fifty celestas,” you countered, maintaining a steely gaze on Maestro Giancarlo as you made your bargain. “Take it or leave it.”

The man voiced his objection, nonetheless. “But My Lady, I have dedicated weeks to crafting each piece.”

Being ten steps ahead, you already anticipated his response, so you offered a compromise. “Yes, yet two hundred for a handful of pieces seems excessive. I will increase it to a hundred and seventy-five. Do we have an accord?”

“But—”

“Two hundred celestas,” you declared firmly, “on the condition that you add a few more cherubim to my collection.”

In the end, he agreed to your offer with an air of triumph as if he had hit the jackpot. He penned your receipt with a sense of satisfaction, believing he had outwitted you with his inflated price when, unbeknownst to him, he had just sold pieces worth roughly two-hundred thousand celestas. The clear winner in this exchange was you, though you kept that fact strictly concealed. Your strategy to amass personal wealth would remain a secret to all, even if Milena thought you had lost your mind paying such a sum for the work of a struggling artist.

And you did not plan to stop there. Your next task was to visit Pietro De Luca, a renowned painter from your past life who had risen to prominence during your time as empress. Like the sculptor, this man was yet to achieve fame during the future period of artistic renaissance. He was the one who painted you and your husband’s infamous portrait at the palace. Unfortunately, though, luck was not on your side when you visited the painter that day, as the man had apparently journeyed to Constantia and would not return for another fortnight.

Ah, well. There would always be another opportunity.

“My Lady,” spoke Milena, standing beside you as your father’s men loaded the sculptures into the spare carriage. “I never imagined the day would come when you would take an interest in sculptures. When did you develop an eye for art?”

To tell her the truth, you cared little for its artistic merit. Your sole concern was its value and the wealth it would bring you in a decade’s time. You could never reveal that fact to Milena, so you offered an excuse instead. “They make for lovely decorations, do they not? They would certainly add to the opulence of the estate.”

Your sentence was abruptly interrupted as a pair of playing children collided with you, causing your hood to slip down and reveal your face. The mother of the children, instead of offering an apology, was too stunned to realize that you were a noblewoman from the capital. They were clearly of lower status than commoners; they were beggars, clad in tattered garments and bearing grimy faces. Your heart twinged with pity, especially upon seeing the mother cradling a baby in her arms.

A poor infant. Almost instinctively, your hand flew to your belly as memories flooded your mind of the baby you nearly had in your past life. It was Satoru’s child, the future emperor of the empire, the sole heir to the imperial Gojou lineage. Yet, he refused to acknowledge it as his own. What would have happened to your child if he had lived? The bittersweet recollection clenched at your gut.

“Please, my lady,” pleaded the impoverished woman, “Any food or clothing would be a blessing.”

To think of it, in your past life, you realized that the commoners harbored resentment towards you for your extravagant lifestyle. None of the luxuries you enjoyed as empress were shared with the masses of the Caelum Empire. They remained trapped in poverty while you reveled in comfort, completely disconnected from their reality. It was no wonder you had incurred the wrath of Goddess Fortuna and Archangel Raphael.

And now, overwhelmed by compassion, you motioned for Milena to offer 50 celestas to the woman, who graciously accepted your gift. The sum would suffice for six months' worth of food supplies. Though you wished you could give more, your wealth was not infinite as the daughter of a duke. Nevertheless, it was the gesture that mattered, was it not?

As you and Milena continued to stroll through the plaza, you could sense the incredulous glances she would cast your way. It must have been strange for her to witness your kindness towards commoners, let alone your act of charity by giving away months worth of allowance to strangers.

“Is it the tea I served you the other morning, my lady?” she inquired, concerned. “You seem to be behaving differently, as if you have transformed into a completely different person.”

In your previous life, Milena’s straightforward comments would have resulted in punishment from you. However, in this timeline, you merely chuckled with her. “Life’s too fleeting to be evil all the time.”

Like an eager puppy, she nodded enthusiastically. “Indeed, my lady. Indeed! It brings me joy to see you embracing life in a different manner.”

If only she knew the hardships you had endured in the past, molding you into someone who viewed the world through a different lens in this present time. She would have been glad to see you become an empress, but she would be horrified to know the amount of souls that died by your hands alone.

You were lost in contemplation throughout the afternoon, and you wandered aimlessly around the city, immersing yourself fully in the lives of the common folk until dusk began to descend. Just as you were about to make your way back to your carriage, a larger one passed by, adorned in white and blue with the imperial insignia proudly displayed.

Today heralded the return of Princess Savina from The Providence. She was the sister of Crown Prince Satoru and the infamous Caelum princess who had tragically perished alongside her lover, Prince Megumi of Astheryn.

Her tragic demise was also the beginning of Satoru’s descent to tyranny.

That could only mean one thing: the true story was just about to unfold.

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You felt unsettled.

Princess Savina’s return marked not only a significant turning point, but also served as a stark reminder of the events that had unfolded in your previous life. Her tragic death had set off a chain reaction of calamities. After her illicit romance with an Astherean prince was exposed, a devastating war broke out and claimed the deaths of innocent citizens. Shortly after, the prince and princess' dead bodies were discovered in the Sistine Chapel. While the conflict might have concluded with an armistice, it was also the catalyst for Satoru’s path to seizing the throne with your helping hand. It was this very moment that laid the groundwork for Satoru's eventual usurpation of the throne.

Soon after, Satoru’s ascension to power would be imminent, with you standing by his side as his chosen empress. He would eliminate every traitor you had identified, while you exacted vengeance upon those who had wronged you prior to your rise to an imperial status. Yet, despite your unwavering loyalty and dedication, Satoru never truly trusted or loved you as his wife, ultimately leading to his betrayal in the end.

How could you stand still and watch history repeat itself?

You had to have a plan. You had to devise a scheme wise enough to change the course of your life. And perhaps, befriending Savina might be the key. She might have a chance to live if her affair with the Astherean prince remained undiscovered, averting the tragic chain of events that led to her demise. That way, Satoru would not harbor the desperation to usurp his parents. He would not ask you to orchestrate a coup, and make you his pathetic empress in return. In this life, you resolved to be repulsive enough in Satoru's eyes that he would be utterly disinterested in you, even if you were the last person on Earth.

The plan seemed logical, yet simultaneously absurd. In your past life, you had strived with all your might to become Satoru's wife, yet now, you were doing everything in your power to avoid such a fate. Is this naught but a cruel game? You could not suppress a wry chuckle as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the bright moonlight casting an illuminated glow upon you. It was enchanting yet horrifying at the same time to see a faint scar encircling your neck, a grim mark that reminded you of your previous fate as a beheaded empress. You were still uncertain whether you were the only one who could see the scar, but Milena had never seemed to notice it during your bathing rituals. Perhaps the scar would only manifest as a visible reminder of sin, and would fade with virtuous deeds. Your recent act of generosity towards the beggar, however, seemed to carry no weight in mitigating your previous unethical dealings with Maestro Giancarlo. It appeared that genuine acts of kindness were only truly rewarded when performed with sincerity, while any hint of selfishness nullified their positive effects.

You acknowledged that virtuousness was not inherently ingrained within you. While avoiding marriage to Satoru was your primary objective, the prospect of a life dedicated to serving the common people was not your desired path. As long as you refrained from inflicting suffering upon others, you saw no necessity in accumulating merits through good deeds. After all, your sole task, as directed by Archangel Raphael, was to atone for your sins, not to become a paragon of virtue. You were no saint.

Three days had quickly passed since that night, and this day held a special occasion that had your heart pumping heavily the morning you woke up. Today, as accurate as your previous life, was the day of The Mass of Annunciation—a holy Catholic mass to celebrate when Archangel Gabriel appeared to the Virgin Mary and announced to her that she would conceive and give birth to the son of God, Jesus.

The grandeur of the event was undeniable, and attendance was obligatory for all noble families of Caelum, given the devout nature of the empire’s populace. Moreover, the presence of the imperial Gojou family ensured the importance of the occasion. Yet, for you, stepping into Saint Peter's Basilica once more stirred nerves as memories flooded back from your time as an empress. Now, as a 20-year-old daughter of a duke, you entered the basilica beside your brother, Aristide, whose pompous demeanor drew the gaze of all noble ladies present. After all, he was the empire’s second most eligible bachelor after Satoru himself. In your first life, your brother had wed Lady Serena, and your relationship had soured when you declared him a traitor and accused him of treachery against your then-husband. Although Satoru had spared his life, he had decreed Aristide’s eventual exile, wary of the threat posed by a brother-in-law with ambitions for the throne.

The stark contrast between your current standing and your former eminence as an empress was palpable as you made your first public appearance in high society since your regression. No longer did heads turn and knees bend at the sight of you. Instead, you were regarded as a mere noblewoman, approaching the age where marriage prospects dwindled, and whispered rumors branded you as a woman with an unsavory fixation on the crown prince. It was a humbling experience, to say the least, and a reminder of the depths to which your reputation had fallen.

Despite no longer holding the title of empress, you spared no effort in your attire. You carried yourself with the same regal air, a testament to your upbringing and the lavish lifestyle afforded by your father. Your family not only produced the bravest knights, but also supported a prosperous weaponry business, which reflected your ostentatious way of life. That was why you had the means to wear a sumptuous gown of rich burgundy brocade, intricately woven with gold thread and adorned with delicate floral embroidery. You made certain that the modest neckline gracefully covered your neck to hide your revolting scar, while layers of sheer chiffon formed a voluminous skirt that cascades to your feet. Your hair was secured in a crespine, a delicate net-like veil adorned with lustrous pearls and sparkling gemstones, while around your neck hung a simple yet elegant silver cross pendant to add a touch of reverence.

In your eyes, you considered yourself a modest and conservative lady who was hesitant to reveal too much skin. However, your brother found it laughable, jesting that you might as well become a nun given how covered your chest and neckline were. He remarked that it was unusual for you to dress in such a reserved manner, as you had previously taken the initiative to wear attire that would attract Satoru’s manly gaze.

“Announcing the arrival of His and Her Imperial Highness, followed by His and Her Imperial Majesties—the luminaries of our empire.”

As the imperial family arrived at the basilica, a hushed anticipation suddenly fell over the gathered crowd. The air was filled with a palpable sense of reverence and awe as the imposing façade of the basilica welcomed the presence of the empire’s highest authority.

First to enter were Princess Savina and Crown Prince Satoru, the heir and heiress to the throne, their regal presence commanding attention as they made their way down the grand procession. Princess Savina was resplendent in a gown of shimmering silk and a coronet as her headdress, while there he came… Your then-husband. Your ex-lover. Your betrayer. Crown Prince Satoru, clad in a tailored doublet of rich blue velvet, projecting an air of quiet strength and authority as he stared straight ahead towards the altar like he did in your past life. You had almost forgotten how princely handsome he was when he was younger, and you could not stop your frenzied heart as you felt somersaults in your stomach. No, you must not! It was all in the mind. It was all a matter of mind games, and this might be the first time you had seen Satoru again in real life after your regression, but he was still a man who had ordered to kill you. You should never be fooled by his luscious white hair and sky blue eyes.

“In love?” whispered your brother, a smirk visible on his face.

“Out of love,” you corrected and remained resolute in your goal not to get swayed by Satoru’s charm again. “I feel not a single thing.”

Aristide scoffed at that. “Yet your eyes shine at the sight of him?”

As the imperial siblings took their places at the head of the procession, the assembled congregation bowed their heads in deference as the imperial family proceeded to their seats and their every movement watched with rapt attention by the gathered nobility. Following closely behind were the Emperor and Empress, the reigning monarchs of the empire, their presence heralded by the sound of trumpets and the swell of sacred music.

You chose not to bicker with your brother throughout the holy mass, although there were times you were tempted to cuss him out. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, ridiculing your attire and insisting that Satoru would never pay you any attention. He took great pleasure in reminding you of the prince’s supposed revulsion towards your obsession, when little did your foolish brother know, you would be glad if that was in fact true.

And the ironic thing was, in your previous life, you had done Aristide a great favor by marrying Satoru. This freed up Lady Serena for marriage, despite her supposed status as the crown prince’s favorite. You used to despise Serena out of sheer jealousy, while Aristide had always desired her, which was why your brother had urged you to win Satoru's affections to pave the way for him to marry the lady he so coveted.

In this life, you decided not to interfere in any potential relationship between Satoru and Serena, regardless of your brother’s wishes. You acknowledged that Serena would make a far superior empress than yourself, as she possessed enough empathy in her to prioritize the welfare of her people and avoid endangering them. She was not the type of person who would willingly bring about the destruction of an entire nation, nor would she welcome the spread of plague out of mere vengeance against her husband.

With Satoru out of your plans, Savina then came into the picture. You had to speak and get close to her—close enough for her to trust you and befriend you, but not attached enough for you to act like her older sister. You would only be here to guide her and avoid her from the path of her downfall in order to save yourself. Savina was the key.

Savina… Savina would be the one to save you in this life. Savina was your only hope.

As the mass concluded, some of the nobles began to disperse, while others congregated in a corner to converse with the Archbishop. Your sole intention at that moment was to approach Savina, allowing your feet to lead you to the direction of where she was. But just before you reached her, you stumbled upon a very significant individual who had played a pivotal role in bringing about your suffering in your previous life.

It was none other than Satoru’s advisor, Lord Maximillian.

“Lady Y/N, it is a delight to see you,” the man greeted, but you could see right through him. He never liked you now and in the past. In fact, his hatred stemmed from his peculiar fixation towards the imperial family. He may look younger presently, but he was still an old and rotten base-born cur.

Maximilian was the one responsible for introducing Satoru to the prophecy, and he was also the individual who whispered your demise into your husband's ears. Given his role in your past suffering, why should you afford him any respect?

“It is rather surprising you had not burned inside the church,” you remarked acerbically, eliciting widened eyes from the nobleman. “Yet it does beg the question, Lord Maximilian, what brings a heretic like yourself inside a Catholic church?”

Within the confines of the basilica, or at least the space surrounding you, a variety of reactions unfolded. A noble lady shot you a disapproving stare for your perceived rudeness towards a man of higher nobility, while your brother regarded you with a mixture of astonishment and concern as if you had gone mad. Conversely, a young nobleman appeared impressed by your audacity.

As for Maximilian, it was rather amusing to observe the crimson hue that spread across his face. You anticipated his retort and braced yourself for his comeback. “Why, you foul-mouthed wench!” he exclaimed, his voice laden with indignation. “Who do you think you are speaking to?!”

You grinned triumphantly at your success in offending him. “You should be ashamed to show yourself in front of God—” you began, relishing the opportunity to further provoke him, but was cut short when a formidable presence appeared before you.

The arctic white hair, the crystal blue eyes, the smooth ivory skin, the towering build from years of training…

“Your Highness,” Maximilian immediately curtsied before the prince, while you remained frozen in place. Like a statue. “Your Highness, this young lady is preposterous!”

On one hand, Satoru’s eyes bathed in humor as he observed the interaction between you and Maximilian. This was the first time you two had faced each other since the regression, and the emotions stirred within you were still raw. You were husband and wife when you last saw each other. You could still remember the last time you saw him the night before your execution, when he visited you in the West Tower and asked you to live a solitary life in the countryside as his mistress. Your heart seemed to constrict in your chest, yet simultaneously, it pounded loudly with anticipation.

“Max, it seems the lady has labeled you a heretic,” the Crown Prince remarked, his gaze unwavering as he focused on you. “Can you substantiate your accusations, Lady Y/N?” he inquired, prompting you to defend your claims.

Satoru, you fool. If you were to reveal what happened in your previous life, he would be an accomplice to the crime. He carried the highest position in the empire at the time, yet he was a supporter of heresy himself. That alone would have brought him into Inquisition.

You could not think straight. Oh for heaven’s sake! You could not focus. Could not breathe. Could not speak. Your thoughts were flooded by memories of your past life; of Satoru claiming you were useless for being barren, of him refusing to acknowledge your child, of him planning to wed another woman after the years you had devoted to him, of him ruthlessly ordering your execution.

Of him never saying he loved you.

Before you realized it, tears welled up in your eyes. You were utterly unprepared to encounter him today, let alone engage in conversation, especially while the wounds from your past were still so raw. Some wounds had yet to heal, and the mere sight of him brought them flooding back.

And with your unexpected reaction, his expression softened and morphed into one of genuine concern. Why? Why was he suddenly concerned now when he spent years of being an ungrateful husband? His smile had long vanished, replaced by a look of worry after seeing you on the verge of breaking down. However, before the tears could spill, you turned and fled, unable to bear the thought of crying in front of a man like him.

“Hold on, Lady Y/N—!”

His voice called out to you, but you refused to look back. No, you were determined to only keep moving forward, to distance yourself from the man who had caused you so much pain. Therefore, you hastily fled the basilica, seeking solace amidst the throng of nobles who were crowding outside.

As you ran, tears streamed down your face unchecked, yet you let it be. The ache in your heart was unbearable, knowing that the man you had once loved so deeply now had the power to hurt you all over again. Only when you found a secluded spot beneath a stone pine tree did you collapse, clutching your chest as you recalled the face of the man who had caused you so much anguish.

I despise you, Satoru.

“How could you betray me like that?” you murmured, tears staining your cheeks as you sobbed beneath the tree, feeling utterly pathetic.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over you, and as you looked up, you saw a man with dark hair clad in shining armor. His smile was gentle as he approached and crouched down beside you.

“My lady.” It was the Knight Commander, Yuuta, offering you his handkerchief. “Is everything alright?”

#series: lltv #satoru gojou x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader

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matan4il · 6 months

Text

I'm gonna share a few thoughts.

>>> People who are very insistent (rightfully) that Hamas and the Palestinians are not the same, because it de-humanizes the latter, are the same people who take every quote an Israeli official makes about fighting Hamas, and attribute it as if it was said about fighting the Palestinians. It seems they're the ones who are conflating Hamas and the Palestinians, but only when it can be used to de-humanize Jews.

>>> The same people who rushed to provide the "context" that the Islamist terrorists massacred over 1,400 people in Israel on Oct 7 due to occupation, were very silent when two Swedish soccer fans were murdered by an Islamist terrorist in Belgium on Oct 16. The last time I checked, Sweden had never occupied any part of Tunisia. For that matter, Hamas murdered and kidnapped many foreigners working and studying in Israel. I'm also pretty sure Thailand, Nepal, China and the Philippines had never occupied Palestine.

>>> I've seen many people screaming that the number of aid trucks being brought into Gaza since Oct 7 is insufficient, because so far it has been less than 100 a day, and before Hamas' attack, it was 500 daily. These are the same people who have been comparing Gaza to a ghetto or concentration camp. I can't remember a single day when the Nazis allowed 500 aid trucks into the Warsaw Ghetto or the Dachau concentration camp.

>>> I've seen many people claiming that Israel warning the Palestinians to evacuate parts of Gaza is forced transfer. I did not see these people so much as acknowledging the existence of well over 500,000 Israelis, who have been evacuated due to Hamas and Hezbollah's on going attacks against Israel.

>>> These same people criticize Israel so much, did not post a single condemnation of Egypt, which refuses to allow Gazans a temporary refuge within its borders. Egypt has also used the "forced transfer" excuse to deny Palestinians a safe temporary shelter. When Ukrainians needed to leave their bombarded cities, I don't remember their neighboring countries refusing to accept them temporarily, because it would be "forced transfer."

>>> IDK if this anti-Israeli post has the worst take yet, but it is def a strong contender:

The same people who can't bring themselves to condemn Hamas without reservations, to admit that it's a terrorist organization, with the stated genocidal goal of killing ALL JEWS, are the ones invoking the memory of the genocide perpetrated against Jews to try and get others to come out against the only Jewish state, and one that was very much a needed refuge place for about two thirds of Holocaust survivors after what they had endured. When Hamas has literally kidnapped and murdered Holocaust survivors and their family members. When countless Jewish people have pointed out that Hamas' massacre was the deadliest assault on Jews since the Holocaust, and made many of them be reminded of its horrors.

To take the memory of the Holocaust and use it to attack Jews, including Holocaust survivors and their families, and most of all, to do it based on a narrative that is completely ignorant or deliberately dismissive of Jewish native rights in Israel, is unconscionable. This person and those who agreed with them, they're guilty of exactly what they accuse others of. They've bought into the anti-Israeli propaganda that allows them to look at kidnapped Jewish babies and tear down their posters, to ignore Jewish students having to hide from anti-Israeli mobs, and to explain that the murdered Holocaust survivors deserved it, de-humanizing and victim blaming them a second time, just as the Nazis and their collaborators did.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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adeptus-nonsense · 5 months

Text

humans are poets as well as warmongers

Humans nowadays are well known far and wide in this galaxy. Mostly because they are some of the most chaotic, Stupid or bold "daredevils" around (think i used that word correctly).

While i do recall my first meeting with the humans very V E R Y badly since i served in the contact wars when the Graktuka a well known theocratic empire and very influential and politically strong contender in the galaxy stumbled across human colonies. They saw this as an hostile action since the planet they were settling were a holy world, That however is a story for another time.

Just know that the Graktuka empire shrunk by a significant margin to the point where they asked for militairy support. The humans had apparently developed a kind of magnetic accelerated firing plattform piercing through multiple layers of hull completely ignoring shields. Given that Graktuka empire relied on shields since most of the galactic arsenal is plasma based but their hull wasn't weak at all. Unconventional weapons had to be used to even dent their armour. Realising that the humans ships were massive but rather primitive and slow a ground based invasion was seen to be the optimal way off going.

If you were there you would know why humanity is as feared as they are. Masters of the what did they call it? Art of war? Yeah something like that. Fields of bombs buried into the ground detonating with a light step. Weapons dedicated to injure soldiers just enough to save them but not kill them in order to make the invader spend more resources on saving said soldier.

Even our bases of operations with shields were not safe, let me tell you if you think regular humans can cause damage to stuff by touching things dont even get near trained saboteurs with your stuff. They break things in a ways that seems like a simple malfunction and will work after a simple repair. When the shield generator first broke down i thought i could fix it in a matter of minutes, I still havent fixed it to this day and i have taken that thing apart thousands of times without finding the fault.

safe to say we lost that war and this is just one one planet. This was the short part. Just be glad that they pack bond with just about anything. Saw a human carry a cleaning unit and named it "Ronald the Roomba" And that is apparently our ships mascot. But this is things we all are aware of. Let me tell you of their poetic side

This is not something most of us see as common knowledge about humans, but their cultural aspect besides war is for a lack of better words beautiful. This thing they call music.

for all their wars they know how brutal they are and write songs about everything they did wrong and how they wished how they could change it. But that is not all, according to human Jakob music portrays emotions and ones feelings in a way that regular communication doesn't and you dont even need to understand the words to understand the emotion said piece is carrying. Which i know to be true, it's almost therapeutic

I think My log of it will be a better way to describe since it is honestly hard to describe [alltough be careful their music is quite loud for most prey species]

Year 4574 human sector 456854 log 1 of service leave. I am currently here on a passion project of mine. While the war has ended 6 years ago off now the tensions do still exist. Me and some comrades in service are taking some time off and going to what humans call a bar and apparently there is a human performing. I have no idea of how this is gonna go. All i know is humans are incredibly chaotic especially when intoxicated. Still i should probably record this for the culture scientists at social scientific hub.

Log 2

*murmur and loud talking in the background at the bar*

"for clarifications sake, my name is Groakslo, i am here with my two comrades Kyukla and Telosa. We are currently at the bar only to see that humans are actively drinking poison, i was quite shocked to hear this and asked if it isn't dangerous and the bartender said and i quote "nah we gucci" note to self find out what gucci is."

Log 3

"the humans were beginning to get rowdy and even slight outbursts of violence did occur but nothing the surprisingly loud bartender couldn't handle by a very concerning threat, followed by him saying that the band is preparing so settle down. Telosa and i looked at each other very confused but still awaited this "band"

Log 4

"the band arrived and started to set up weird things, long instruments with metal strings, of varying thickness, i asked the a human who were close by what they were and he said instruments. I asked what they were used for and he said to play music. I was getting nowhere and decided to see for myself what they were gonna do."

Log 5 (i decided to be quiet for this one)

"welcome folks and aliens of all sorts shapes and kinds! Thank you for coming to this bar for our first debut our name is The Lines In between, and for those who dont know human music, we'll slowly lean you into it with this first on and it is namned Memories beneath the stars" [3 hours of music recorded]

Final log (yes i know i could voice record but i want to write while the memory is fresh i'm bad with words)

I never knew that humans could make such songs. Telosa and Kyukla was particurlarly affected. The song was as the name suggest the memories we made sneaking out to watch the stars as younglings, reminiscing about the times when the stars were the most unknown, adventure filled and beautiful place to be in. But also about the connections they've lost over the years, the good times wiped away like a water slowly polishing a stone into sand. It was odd, beautiful calm, sad all at once.

The voices i heard when i fought humans in war can not even be compared to that of the singer in that band, what is most perplexing is that the once borderline rioting bar was completely quiet when the band was performing, almost as if in a trance completely captured by the singers voice, smooth, rough, raspy but controlled in a way i thought impossible. A song about 4 human minutes somehow managed to capture the full emotional spektrum of not only humans but multiple species in that bar.

Humans truly are an astounding species. Truly a species that are on all of the extremes, stupidity, ingenuity, violence, poetry and many many more. For now i'll sign off and hope you at the social cultural exchange fellas have a field day with the music file attached to this.

Grokslo, highly decorated former geothermical shield generator militairy specialist.

#humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are space fae #humans are space orcs #this is my firsy real post and more to come :)

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meanbossart · 19 days

Note

You know the Hag casts Vicious Mockery, right? Some of her lines are really fucking mean, lol. To Astarion, she says, "Deep down, you like to be leashed, don't you?" and there's another about the stink of rats on him. To a male drow player, she says something like, "On your knees, boy, just like the matriarchs taught you." She's got something for every race and class, and special stuff for companions.

Anyway. What is something personal and deeply hurtful that she might say to Drow to derail him?

What are his triggers in general, if any? Stuff that will anger him "randomly", in the sense that someone close to him might not understand why he was triggered (and perhaps he might not understand either)?

I had know no clue actually LOL since I found out you can cast silence on her and kill her in two turns I have never given that woman much time to get a word in 😂

DU drow is, unsurprisingly, pretty volatile. Earlier in the campaign when he's fresh off the nautiloid I could think of a few things that may set him off quickly (later, and in ANE, he's much more subdued though, and it depends more on who says it and the kind of day that he's having lol)

Some things that get particularly on his nerves:

-Belittling him, implying that his body and attitude are just a front for his weaknesses. The fastest way to buy a fight with him is to just laugh at everything he says and does and not take him seriously at all. -He's at times insecure about making his loved one's (Astarion & Shadowheart's) lives worse by being around them. Present him any example of how that may be true and you'll have a very sad/angry drow. -Treat him like a wounded animal that just needs a hug and a pet and he'll get all better, it will annoy him even if you have good intentions. -Insist on something after he says "no". Even a little bit. Even if it's silly. You can speedrun any of these by being a female drow. SO for the actual crux of the question, here's a few strong contenders for Vicious Mockery lines that Ethel could blast DU drow with (CONTENT WARNING: IT'S AUNTIE ETHEL.) :

-"Bark, bark, bark, little dog, It don't make you look any scarier"

-"You trying to kill me or fuck me? Or kill me to fuck me? Or fuck me to kill me, pork-chop? "

-(Imitating a crying baby) "That's what you sound like to everyone around you, little boy."

-"Daddy's gonna be so, so disappointed. I'd clench up my hole, if I were you."

-"Such big swings for a drooling, inbred lech."

#ask #Auntie Ethel #DU drow lore

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httpsuniverse · 1 year

Text

BABY REVEAL 📸

with PG10, MSC47, CL16, LN4, GR63, DR3, CS55

a/n: happy new year everyone! here’s my second attempt on making an ig au hehe >_<

pierregasly

liked by ynricciardo, yukitsunoda0511, f1, charles_leclerc and others

pierregasly welcome to the world, daisy anthoinette gasly 🌼

view all 1,757 comments

charles_leclerc your godfather will meet you soon, daisy! ☺️

danielricciardo assuming that YOU are the godfather 🤨 I AM A STRONG CONTENDER, MATE. ynricciardo oh hush, brother! we haven’t decided who it is yet... 🫣

yukitsunoda0511 congratulations, pierre! ❤️ missed the chance to name your baby after me... 😔

pierregasly why would i name my DAUGHTER after you?

yukitsunoda0511 hey! it’s not only a boys’ name!

ynricciardo maybe i can convince him for the next one, yuki 🤭

pierregasly there’s no way we’re naming our next child after him

fanusername i suppose, the 🐶 worked?

fan1username STFU 😭 whyd you ruin such a cute post with this comment

— next post.

mickschumacher

liked by yourusername, yourbffsusername, gina_schumacher, f1 and others

mickschumacher surprise, i’m mr new dad! 👨‍🍼 matteo schumacher is finally home 🤍

view all 1,975 comments

gina_schumacher our little bundle of joy and our favorite surprise ❤️ we’ll visit again soon, send my love to teo and y/n!

mickschumacher thanks gina! ❤️

yourusername teo misses you already, aunt gina 🥰

sebastianvettel congratulations to the new parents, mick & y/n!

yourusername thank you, seb! bring emily and matilda when you visit soon 🫶

fanusername WMICK HAS A SON????? HAT JUST HAPPPENF

fan1username i feel like we missed a WHOLE chapter bro 😭

fan2username NOT A CHAPTER BRO A WHOLE FUCKIN BOOK!! HOW TF DKD THIS HAPPEN ???

fan3username BRO I DIDNT EVEN KNOW MICK WAS DATING SOMEONE HELP

— next post.

charles_leclerc

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, pierregasly, f1 and others

charles_leclerc carmen’s favorite bunny 🐰

view all 1,647 comments

georgerussell63 congratulations mate and yourusername! carmen and i will visit you three soon 😉

yourusername thank you georgie! it’ll be a cute meet up, carmen meets auntie carmen! 🥰

fanusername seems like you named her after carmenmmudnt?

charles_leclerc as much as y/n loves her paddock best friend, we really just chose the name that we thought of the moment we saw our daughter!

pierregasly daisy’s playmate!

fanusername PH MY GOD THEYRE GONNA BE BEST FRIENDS LIKE THEIR DADS

fan1username HELP THIS IS SO CUTE I CAN IMAGINE IT ALREADY

fan2username OOOH IMAGINE THEM PLATING AROUND THE PADDOCK 🥹🥹

— next post.

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo, f1, maxfewtrell, carlossainz55 and others

landonorris luke learned how to flip off his dad aka me... 🥲

view all 2,759 comments

maxfewtrell i taught luke that when i babysat

ynfewtrell youre banned for life

maxfewtrell you cannot ban me, i’m luke’s favourite uncle

landonorris NOT ANYMORE

carlossainz55 ay dios mio... i almost had a heart attack, mate. it’s because me and isa were the last ones to babysit luke

isahernaez i got scared as well, but the rolls! 😍

ynfewtrell no worries! i know you two wouldn’t teach my baby these kind of things 🥹 and IKR!! I’M TRYING MY BEST NOT TO BITE THEM

landonorris *OUR BABY

ynfewtrell 🙄🙄

danielricciardo luke caught in 4k 📸

— next post.

georgerussell63

liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon, lilymhe, charles_leclerc, f1 and others

georgerussell63 crikey! that’s a big foot!

view all 1,864 comments

yourusername no wonder why it hurts every time he kicked me before :(

georgerussell63 well, he’s out now, love 😅 no more pain

yourusername no more pain yet he kicks me on his sleep, just like his dad 🙄

charles_leclerc george kicks on his sleep?????

yourusername he does 🙄 gabriel definitely takes it after him

georgerussell63 and gabriel takes after you for being so loud

lewishamilton congratulations to the new parents ❤️ gabriel is lucky to have you both in his life

yourusername thank you, sir lewis! 💗

lilymhe ooh i’m very excited to meet gabriel 🥺🤍

yourusername gabe is excited to meet his godparents as well 💗

alex_albon YO for real ??

yourusername you know it, albono! 😉

alex_albon i was thinking of dyeing hair green and convince lily to dye hers pink so we could be like the fairly odd parents

georgerussell63 please don’t do that

— next post.

danielricciardo

liked by landonorris, scottyjames31, michaelitaliano, f1 and others

danielricciardo jude us off to steal all the ladies’ (and gents) hearts in his uncle’s farm wedding

view all 1,499 comments

yourusername my little man 💗

danielricciardo why do you only comment on my posts when it comes to jude 😭 i’m hurt!!

yourusername 🙄🙄 don’t be such a baby

danielricciardo i’m just kidding 😘

yourbrothersig aahhh! my little ring bearer 🥹

yourusername he’s sooo excited 😍 see you later!

danielricciardo i still don’t get why you got jude to be the ring bearer, he’s only 5 months ...

yourusername IT’S CUTE, DANNY. JUST APPRECIATE IT.

landonorris bet there’ll be a lot if pictures for daniel3.jpg

yourusername he hasn’t stopped taking photos since we left for the farm 😅

fanusername #seated for the pictures

— next post.

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, f1, landonorris, pierregasly and others

carlossainz55 alguien está disfrutando de su dia en la playa ⛱️ [someone is enjoying their day at the beach]

view all 1,388 comments

carlosonoros ¡disfrutar de las vacaciones! ❤️ [enjoy the vacation!]

carlossainz55 lo hare, gracias! 👍🏻❤️ [will do, thanks!]

yourusername thank you, caco! 🤍

yourbffsusername oh my lord!! the little toes!! 🥹

yourusername have you noticed that there’s a little rock(?) stuck between them 🥺

yourbffsusername OH MY GOD IM SOBBING THATS SO CUTE

yourmomsig how was sofia’s first trip to the beach? sending love 😘😘

carlossainz55 she was confused at first, but she loved it!

yourusername fia’s always confused, comes 100% from carlos 😅

carlossainz55 🙄

fanusername NOT HIS WIFE SAYING THAT LMAOOO LOVE YOU BOTH!!!

— previous post.

#pierre gasly x reader #mick schumacher x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #george russell x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 au

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misguidedasgardian · 8 months

Text

The Hour of the Wolf

Prologue

MASTERLIST

Summary: The dark hours before the end of Aegon Targaryen II

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, talks about bedding and non concensual sexual relationships, threats of mutilation, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Notes: A bit short, but I'm setting a tone here

Corlys could sense the tension in the room, everyone, at least, the survivors, were dangerously quiet, they shared concerned looks between them all.

Alicent’s mouth always seemed to be twisted in inhumane ways, but now… the edges of her mouth almost falls down of her face by her chin

“All the traitors are going to die”, said Aegon, twisting his hands, playing with the rings he had placed in his fingers… trying to hide the fact that they were burnt, the skin melted. He used now high colored shirts and vests, but the still raw, tender skin that was never going to heal, could still be seen in the side of his face, no matter he had decided to let his wild hair ungroomed, fall long framed his chubby face.

“We will be overrun”, admitted Corlys, “A Northerner army, a big one, is passing trough Harrenhal right now, they had been joined by people in the Riverlands that still are faithful to Rhaenyra’s cause, and also from the Vale in the Narrow Sea, we will be defeated, and we will burn inside this walls”, he sentenced

“I think the Velaryon Fleet needs incentive, Lord Corlys, to face the traitors of the Vale”, two years ago, the council would have laughed to the drunken fool’s face that called himself King, but as they looked into his wild lilac eyes… no one laughed

Corlys was the only one to dare directly into his eyes

In defiance

Say it

He begged him with a silent threat in his dark eyes

Do it

Threaten me

“I think we need to send a little message…”, he continued, “I want my little nephew’s cock on a platter, and that little whore… in my chambers by the time we finish here, maybe that way, if we send them a set of sheets with my niece’s maidenhead in them, perhaps we will tell the fucking traitors what will happen to them all”

“Take the black, your grace, step down”

“I will kill them, to every last trace of my cunt of a half sister, i will take away the reason for their rebellion, they were be no other contender to the throne but me, and I will marry Cassandra Baratheon, she will give me true, strong heirs, worthy of the Iron Throne”

“Your grace”, he said slowly. “maybe, telling them of your marriage with the princess, instead of her bloodied sheets would be more effective”, he counseled

“He is right Aegon”, said Alicent softly, “an alliance between the two branches of the family will ease them, and Cregan Stark, when knowing Rhaenyra’s blood will sit on the Iron Throne one day, he will go back North”, she said hopefully, she placed her hand on his son forearm, but he pulled it, rejecting his mother’s touch

“Bring her to my chambers tonight”, he said to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he didn't like it, but nodded nonetheless without saying anything

“Aegon”, reasoned Alicent, “she is very delicate, and an innocent in all of this”

“Isn’t she the daughter of my whore of a sister?”, he mocked, Alicent said nothing as she played with her fingers nervously, “isn’t she what you called her a thousand times over? a bastard?”

“That doesn’t mean… we will be surrounded”

“Call in Lord Borros then, they will attack the traitors from the back, and killed them against the city walls”, he mocked

“Lord Borros is dead your grace”, said Corlys, playing with the dragon eye in front of him, he then stopped, and look up at him, he found the twisted King looking back at him with a sick smile

“Right, sometimes I forget”, he said dismissively, he took the chalice of wine next to him and took it to his lips

5 minutes without drinking

A new record

“the Lannisters then”, he said

“By the time the Lannister piece together the scraps left of their army, our head will be at stakes at the gates of the city”, Lord Corlys debated, Larys Strong only got quiet, looking to the left and to the right, who was next to speak, who was next to loose his temper. It was truly entertaining

“We hold the city”, he mocked, “we will close the gates and those savages will be scratching their heads, wondering how they could breach the walls, they don’t have siege weapons

“What they have is the rest of the country’s resources, while they starved us to death”, he fought again

“Not if your armada defeats the Arryn’s, as they should”

Then finally, his crazy, deranged eyes stopped at the face of Corlys Velaryon

“I will cut your granddaughter's ear and sent it to Alyn Velaryon, to go and encourage him to fight the fucking traitors”

That was it

“That is not going to be necessary, your grace, Alyn will fight the Arryn fleet, there is no doubt in my mind, I will send word to him personally”

“there shouldn’t be no need”, he snapped, “I am the King!”, he said, pointing to his own chest, “and they are loyal to me, they will fight”, Corlys nodded

That was it then

They shared looks with Tyland Lannister

His fate was set

The small council meeting was done, and everyone return to their chambers, it was already the hour of the owl, the Keep was dark, very lighten up, it lost ghostly, like it had been abandoned

Corlys walked silently to his chambers, as a maid passed by him, he gave her a small sack and nodded, she barely looked at him and walked away

It was sealed

“Where is the princess?”, he asked the guard posted at her rooms, he shook his head, the Sea Snake barely nodded, “keep her there”, he commanded, and kept walking

He needed his wits, he was going to need every ounce of diplomacy he still held to survive the coming weeks

A pack of wolves was coming

And they were going to ravage every Green that still drew breath

There had never lived a Stark who forgot an oath

Cregan Stark had promised Rhaenyra he was going to raise an army and march south to guard her and destroy her enemies that still were raising arms

Rhaenyra was dead

And yet the wolf was coming to fulfill his promise

. . .

“Drakari pykiros, Tīkummo jemiros”, she sang softly, grabbing tightly the small incense in her hand, “Yn lantyz bartossa, Saelot vāedis”, she kept lighting up the candles, “Hen ñuhā elēnī, Perzyssy vestretis”, she wavered, looking up at the skull of Balerion, “Se gēlȳn irūdaks. Ānogrose, Perzyro udrȳssi”, she moved to the next table, lighting up the small candles one by one, it could be maddening, but she had been here every night, “Ezīmptos laehossi”, she continued, “Hārossa letagon, Aōt vāedan, Hae mērot gierūli”, she looked up at the huge skull again, hoping, praying for something, like he was going to brought the black dread back to life

“Se hāros bartossi, Prūmȳsa sōvīli, Gevī dāerī”, she finished the song with a single tear falling down her cheek

“Balerion, Jaes morgho, mazēdas ñuha lentor, sir gūrogon zirȳla, nyke jorepagon syt se morghon hen dārys”

[Balerion, god of death, he took my family, now take him, I pray to you for the death of the Usurper], she whispered

She looked down at the candles, as she played with her fingers in the small flames, she could feel nothing, her skin didn't melt, unlike her sleeve

“Morghūljagon”, she whispered, extinguishing the flames from a simple blow of her lips

Die.

#misguidedhour #cregan stark x reader #cregan #cregan x y/n #cregan x reader #cregan stark #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #targaryen!reader #house targaryen #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction

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animeomegas · 7 months

Note

Hello! Recently I'm having Haku brainrot.

Can I request Haku spending his heat with his Alpha. It didn't need to be NSFW(maybe they are cuddling in his nest🥺🤧) honestly, I just want to spoil him and kiss him lmaoo

(Understandable, anon, I too am often plagued by brainrot XD)

Post-Heat Relaxation with Haku

Sometimes, your mate reminded you of a cat.

Not all the time, of course. He loved swimming, smelling his herb garden, and he quite frankly thrived in freezing temperatures, likely due to a side effect of his bloodline limit. In those regards, he was very human.

And yet now, as you watched him lounge on the window seat, naked and stretched out, languishing in the sun, you couldn't help but draw a comparison.

Haku had a kind of aura that drew others in, lulled them into a sense of security and safety, like a siren at sea, and as his mate, you were not the exception to that power.

You were supposed to be cleaning up. Only one of the two large bags of nesting supplies were clean, and none of the back up supplies were out yet, but Haku's power was too strong. When you heard the little contended purrs that he was letting out, you simply couldn't resist approaching him.

"The nest is almost ready for rebuilding," you said gently, crouching down by the window seat and resting your cheek on the smooth, warm skin of his bare waist. You pressed a kiss there and Haku hummed in delight.

"There's no rush, I'm quite happy here." Haku stretched languidly, grumbling pleasantly at the stretch. "The sun is so lovely today."

Yes, you thought, amused, definitely a cat.

"Not as lovely as you."

Haku smiled, his stomach jumping in amusement under your cheek. You pressed a couple more kisses to the heated skin before sitting upright. His hair was still damp from his earlier bath and you couldn't resist running your fingers through it, careful to avoid tugging on any tangles.

"How are you feeling?"

"Amazing," he breathed, closing his eyes again.

"Are you sure?" you asked, still stroking his hair. "Your heat was more intense than usual this year, and if I'm tired, you must be."

He laughed lightly, "I'm sure I'm fine, stop worrying so much, silly." He turned his gaze back towards the window, seemingly happy to gaze at his much loved garden.

You remembered the first ever nest Haku had built when he moved to Konoha. Well, you hadn't been allowed inside it at the time, but you remembered him speaking about building it inside his wardrobe. Wardrobe's weren't an uncommon place for omegas to utilise for nest building, but for Haku it had been a sign of his anxiety in a new place.

Now, here, he seemed so much more at home, where nature bled through to where he was nesting, where he could bask in a cool summer's breeze and warm patches of sunlight. The idea of him being contained in a small, dark wardrobe didn't feel right at all.

You had provided this den, this home, for him, and he felt safe here. Your omega felt so safe, he could lay naked, in front of an open window, at one of his most vulnerable moments. Your stomach clenched, as every instinctual part of you purred in delight.

"Just call me back over when it's time for me to rebuild the nest," he said, yawning. "I might take a nap here."

You ran your hand from his hair, down his body, appreciating the subtle curves and grooves as you went, "Okay, darling, have a good nap."

"I will." His beautiful eyes fluttered closed. He was the picture of contentment.

You nuzzled into his neck, placing one final kiss on his newly refreshed mating mark, before stepping away to continue washing the soiled fabrics of his nest.

#haku #a/b/o #omegaverse #x reader #alpha!reader #hcs #headcanons #omega haku #reader insert

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3d-wifey · 5 months

Text

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 10

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 6.5k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12 A/N: a lot of yall are gonna be mad at me, but let me cook real quick. Trust 🙏🏾

Past (xi) - You

[21 & 22] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

You tighten your coat around you, burrowing into the warmth as you walk.

To the left of you, dairy cows moo distantly, some grazing the open land while others stay tucked away in their barns. To the right of you, you pass empty victor houses. Once upon a time, District Eleven used to produce an immense number of victors. Certainly not as many as One or Two, but a strong contender right next to Four. It makes sense. Compared to what the citizens here have to face day to day, the arena is a welcome change. And tributes from Eleven develop a skill set that’s meant for survival at a very young age—one step away from being careers in your own right.

Eleven has always been incredibly rebellious. But after the Uprising a few decades back, which the citizens refer to as the First Movement, Eleven lost any good standing with the Capitol. In its place came droves of Peacekeepers and more oppressive rules than there were people. With them came the inability to train children, malnourishment, and conformity. They make sure to teach all about it in school, making sure students know just how far their district fell. Once a powerhouse worthy of rubbing shoulders with the best of them stands one of the most ‘primitive’ and militarized districts in the nation.

The remaining houses are left without any upkeep and are abandoned to fall apart.

As a victor, you're afforded some leniency by the Peacekeepers, but not much. Just enough that they won't find it suspicious that you’re carrying a blanket-covered wicker basket. Regardless, you keep it close to your side and it knocks into your calf with each step.

Winter is the worst time in Eleven, though it doesn’t last long. It doesn’t snow often, since it’s so far south, but the ice is just as bad—if not worse. Not many people can survive the subzero temperatures, let alone crops. So, though it seems impossible, what little rations they give the people are shortened even further. The only plus is that it isn’t harvest season—there are so many crops to collect that children are pulled out of school for weeks at a time to help.

You remember what it feels like to be hungry. To be forced into the orchards to harvest pears, apricots, and Mandarin oranges—some of the only crops that can weather the cold, small hands stiff and your stomach numb with pain as you endured the freezing winds. You had friends when you were younger, other children that worked alongside you. Very few of them survived through the winter.

They give victors more food and money than they have any right to. So once a month you pack up food that you, Chaff, and Seeder have gathered and journey to the poorest part of the district. You don’t take it all at once, that’s far too risky. You spread out the trips over several days at different times so the Peacekeepers on the clock don’t notice a pattern.

It’s not an easy walk by any means. You reside in the wealthy part of Eleven and you use wealthy in the loosest sense of the word. The mayor’s family, doctors, Peacekeepers, landowners, and victors. Your destination is almost on the complete opposite side of the district from the Victor Village. Far away so the rich don’t have to see the harsh reality that the citizens live in.

It’s never been explicitly said that you can’t give out food, but it’s certainly implied. You try not to think about what they’ll do to you if you’re caught.

You wave at the few people you pass and avert your eyes as you walk past the whipping post. There’s only one. The Peacekeepers line up anyone who’s committed an offense and thrash them one by one. Most of the time, the people are innocent. Everyone has to watch, no one can intervene. It’s stationed beside the deck they conduct the hangings on. People avoid the area if they can.

You pass open farmland and empty cotton fields. The further you walk, the more run down the buildings become. Until the houses aren’t much more than shacks guarded only by the hulking trees surrounding them. You relax. The Peacekeepers don’t patrol here. They’re certainly supposed to, but even they can’t stomach the squalor.

The kids spot you first, they always do. Little heads popping up from behind trees and shouting your arrival.

“She’s here!”

You laugh as they surround you, jumping up and down and shooting rapid-fire questions your way. You know that more would greet you if they could, but they likely can’t move. Huddled up in their homes and crippled by hunger or the cold, but probably both. The commotion draws adults toward you. An older woman with graying curly hair and sunspots on dark brown skin steps out of the gaunt-looking crowd. Elm, she's the de facto leader here.

A man, Maple, takes the basket from you with a smile and walks into one of the buildings in the far back to stash the food away. You pull more wrapped food out of the hidden pockets on the inside of your coat and hand them off.

You have a system in place. You’ve been doing these deliveries for a long time. You trust them to distribute the goods to those who need them the most. Everyone here looks out for each other. Even if the kids aren’t theirs, an adult won’t let them go hungry if they can help it. It truly takes a village. You would know. After all, you used to live here.

The Shacktowns mainly exist because there are too many people in the district, having reached overpopulation decades ago. Living here is preferable to having to pay for food, clothing, and a house that’s seen its fair share of price gouging. From what you’ve seen, the clothing in the Shacks is somehow worse than what Districts Ten or Twelve get to wear. It’s all ill-suited for the temperamental cold. So in exchange for working in the fields and forests under horrible conditions, the people get free housing and food. Clearly, both benefits are incredibly lacking.

It’s all the illusion of choice anyway. Only three percent of the population works outside of the fields, that’s including the Peacekeepers. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who doesn’t work on a farm, a grove, an orchard, or a plantation.

Elm pulls you into a hug once your hands are free and you lean into her warm embrace. She’s been as old as the dirt on the ground for as long as you’ve known her, but it feels like she’s rapidly declined every time you see her. She’s well and truly sick and she has been for a long time now. No one knows what it is or what effects it’ll have on her. Medicine isn’t readily available here. And you don’t think something that simple can help her anyway. Sadly, she isn’t the only one. You just hope this information doesn’t get out.

If anyone orbiting the elite circles found out just how many people were sick here, they wouldn’t send them to the Capitol to get help. They’d see it as a waste of resources. They’d let them suffer and die or have them put down if they’re feeling benevolent. Again, Eleven is heavily populated. The lives here have very little value outside their abilities to work. If they can’t do that, what purpose do they serve?

What use is a horse with a broken leg?

She pulls away, hands on your shoulders as she looks you over. “You look good, healthy.”

“I can’t say the same for you.” You raise a brow at her hunched frame. She’s a tall woman with the endurance of a mule. She’s a decade younger than Mags, but she doesn’t look like it. But, as you’ve learned after touring the districts, manual labor ages people.

“And you,” you lean back as she wags her finger in your face, “inherited that mouth from your daddy. It’s gonna get you in trouble one day.”

‘’You’re getting worse.” You note, ignoring her attempt at diversion. The kids disperse, running back to the forest they were playing in. You know they won’t go far enough to reach the thirty-foot-tall fence, but you still worry. The gate is guarded to the teeth with trigger-happy Peacekeepers who won’t hesitate to shoot on sight.

“I’m fine, honey. Don’t worry about me.” She waves off your concern and you frown, stuffing your hands into your pocket when a breeze comes through.

“My offer still stands, Elm. There’s plenty of room in the house. Me and Mama would love to have you.” She practically raised your dad, and she even made the broom your parents jumped over at their wedding. Hell, when you were born, she was the first person to hold you after your parents. She’s family and it kills you to leave her out here.

She shakes her head and you know this argument is going to end the way it always does. “You know that’s not fair. They need me out here.” She pats your cheek and finishes with no room for argument. She’s stubborn so going in circles about this will get you nowhere. You shift your jaw, agitated.

“And while we’re talking, I think you should skip next month’s delivery,” your jaw drops. “Let me explain before you start assuming. You know we appreciate everything you do for us, but you need to lay low for a while. You’re pushing your luck coming out here as often as you do, and if you get caught, you won’t be any help to anyone .” She states, making a convincing argument and effectively cutting off your protest before you even start.

You sigh. Seeder and your mom have been telling you the same thing.

“Please? Do it for an old woman’s peace of mind.” She pleads, squeezing your shoulders.

“We can’t afford to just stop coming out here entirely, but I guess it doesn’t always have to be me.” Chaff had offered to start delivering in your place, or to at least switch off who makes the trip each month.

You’re barely able to make ends meet for the people here, and this is only one Shacktown of hundreds.

“Just start looking out for yourself more, alright?” She asks and you agree with a scowl, you refuse to call it a pout though Finnick definitely would.

You don’t stay for long. You need to get back before it starts getting dark out.

On your way back, you stop by the bakery like you always do. It’s a good halfway point between your two destinations—you’ll have something to show for your trip as well as an alibi, just in case you get stopped.

You order two loaves of seeded rolls, another loaf of sourdough, and a blueberry muffin for your mom. Sage, the worker behind the counter, wraps the baked goods and pauses. “It’s dangerous, what you’re doing.” He murmurs under his breath, so quiet that you wouldn’t have been able to hear him if you two weren’t the only ones here. He hands you your stuff, waving off the tip you attempt to give him. “But it’s good. I don’t think I’d be brave enough to take that kind of chance.”

“It’s brave enough that you offer me food to give to them.” You say and mean it. What you do is only a secret to the people who aren't supposed to know. It's not just you, Seeder, and Chaff who contribute. Sometimes people give you food, and clothes, to donate—among other things. Sage has spent many nights making extra bread and pastries just so there’ll be enough left over for you to deliver to Shacktown.

Most jobs In Panem are passed down through families. Such as Caesar Flickerman, who took his profession from his father, Julius Flickerman. And Julius inherited it from his father before him, all the way back to Lucky Flickerman.

Old Mr. and Mrs. Pitsone never had any kids of their own so the mayor allowed them to adopt one of the many orphans running around the fields to train in the art of baking. They picked Sage.

He’s a meek boy despite his height, skittish and paranoid, but very kind. With light hair and even lighter skin that’s rare to see in Eleven, it’s no wonder he stood out amongst the other kids. He and his parents live above the bakery in a small home, though luxurious by Eleven’s standards.

You used to have a crush on each other when you were much, much younger. A kiss on the cheek here and there as you worked beside each other. Nothing special, but the most childish you were allowed to be. You were so envious when they took him out of the fields, you all were. He wasn’t one of you anymore, he got to work on the inside. Nobody wanted to be around him, so he was ostracized. You, angry and young, wished it was you. But now, you only wished it had happened sooner. You wished you had kept in touch.

He rings you up and you gather it all in your basket before he stops you.

“Oh, wait here for a second.” He goes through a door behind him that you know leads to storage. You lean forward and hide a handful of coins on the little shelf under the front counter where you’re sure he won’t find them until it’s time to close. You hear rummaging and boxes moving before he comes out with a wrapped parcel tied with string. “I saved a few chocolate croissants for you. We usually run out of those in the morning, but I know you like them.” He gives you a closed-mouth smile. Small, but real.

You try to picture a world where the two of you ended up together, running the bakery until you’re old and gray—maybe if you hadn’t been reaped. But you can’t imagine a universe where you aren’t in love with Finnick Odair.

“Thank you, Sage.” The bell above the door jingles as you walk out.

“Be careful!” He calls from behind you.

Walking back is always hard, having to leave them all behind to suffer while you’re allowed to go back to your stupidly big house. With its giant pillars and long, stretching brick walkway framed by old willow trees that curve into each other and make an arched tunnel. And it’s in the middle of this tunnel that you see Peacekeepers guarding either side of your front door.

Your heart stops and then starts again at a runner’s pace.

Did they…find out? You were so careful, how did they—

One of them spots you lingering a few feet away and waves you closer. You walk forward, closing the distance. And then you take hesitant steps up the old stairs, tensing up in preparation for rough hands dragging you to the whipping posts. Instead, one just opens the front door for you. That’s worse. That means your punishment is on the inside . You’d rather take your chances with the whips.

They shut the door behind you, but don’t follow you. You place the basket of goods on a nearby hallway table and walk into the living room to see your mom sitting on the couch by herself, flanked by three guards, safe.

“There you are, baby.” She tries to smile at you, a play at normality, but it creaks and shakes like a house in a tornado. “We have a very special guest. He’s waiting for you in your study.” She nods to the double doors further down the hall with even more Peacekeepers. You know who’s on the other side before the doors even open and you really would have picked the whipping post over this.

Coriolanus Snow sits in your office. Your office inside your home that’s almost seven hours from the Capitol. Snow traveling that distance? That's nothing to scoff at.

He sits with his back to you and turns when the doors shut behind you. You feel like you’re a guest in your own home.

Seeing him sitting behind your big mahogany desk is akin to seeing a fox in a chicken coop. It’s dangerous— foreboding. Nothing good can come from it. And for him to be so comfortable in the spot where you write your letters to Finnick makes your skin crawl. It’s wrong. He shouldn’t be here, in the one place that's truly yours.

“President Snow.” You say in greeting. You wrack your brain for any mentions of him coming to visit you and come up empty. Maybe there was a letter you missed, but you doubt it.

It’s dusk, the setting sun shines through the windows behind him—bathing him in golden lighting that would have made anyone else look angelic.

“You’re back,” he props his elbows up on your desk, steepling his fingers together. “Your mother said you were off to the bakery. You were gone for an awfully long time. Is it far?” Nothing on Snow’s face gives away his true intentions. If he knows about your little escapade, he’s doing a very good job of hiding it.

“Yes, it’s almost a day's walk,” You reply truthfully. When he does nothing more than hum in return, you’re quick to fill the silence. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

“Oh, it’s no fault of your own, my dear. I’m sure if you knew I was coming, you’d have postponed your little trip, yes?” You nod like a bobblehead and he leans back, most likely confident that he has your full attention. Again, you can’t tell if he knows about the donations. If he does, he clearly doesn’t care enough to mention it. Surely, he didn’t come all this way just to sleep with you. But what else could he be here for?

“Your mother was a fantastic host in your absence.” He lifts his teacup in mock cheers to you and you clasp your hands together behind your back, nails digging into thin skin.

“I’ll…be sure to pass along the message.” You smile, pressing your nails deeper into your skin. Had they been any sharper, you would’ve drawn blood. It’s quiet as you silently observe each other. The only sound in the room is the tick of the grandfather clock and a few birds outside the window, happily ignorant of the cyclone forming inside.

He finally breaks and speaks, though break probably isn’t the right word for it. Rather, he allows you to breathe by saying something, “Do you know why I’m here?”

Under the weight of his unrelenting stare, you eventually shake your head no and it feels like admitting defeat. Like you’re not smart enough to catch on to his train of thought and you both know it.

“Of course, you don’t.” He tsks, disappointed. You lower your gaze, embarrassed. He stands and takes poised, measured steps to where your feet are rooted to the floor. He towers over you, literally and figuratively.

“I am here,” he circles you like a vulture, “to remind you of your standing. Hear me when I say this as there will be no room for misconceptions. You are incredibly privileged.”

You think you do a very good job of refraining from gawking at him like he’s grown a second head even though that’s definitely the reaction he deserves. What privilege could he possibly be talking about? You, who grew up in the poorest part of the most oppressed district. You, who’s been whored out for the safety of the people you love since you were sixteen. You, who’s lucky to see the man you love more than once a month.

You’re privileged?

"Now, I've allowed you a certain amount of freedom that not many are rewarded. Namely, your relationship with Mr. Odair," he nods to your desk where your letters from Finnick are hidden. Perhaps, not as hidden as you thought. "I’m sure you know communication between the districts is forbidden. You get away with it because I allow it. Because you are obedient, because you don't ask questions when given a task, because you have a value that many like to indulge in." Snow rubs his gloved thumb against your bottom lip. You know better than to flinch away.

"But you are not irreplaceable." He drops his hand and turns towards the room. Your lungs are cool with the breath you’re finally able to take. You should be used to his presence, and you usually are, but only when you can prepare yourself. He’s completely blindsided you.

You nod clumsily. “I know.” Really, you do. You knew Snow knew about you and Finnick, but not to what extent. You also wondered how long it would take until the both of you got pushback. You just—weren’t expecting it to happen like this.

He toys with the few picture frames you have set up on your shelf. He glances over the picture of your parents on their wedding day and a framed photo you took of Finnick in the Capitol, beaming a big grin at the person behind the camera—you. Instead, he goes for the magazine you have propped up. The first cover you and Finnick were on together. Life in the Spotlight as Told by Panem's Hottest Victors.

“Do you? It appears to me you believe yourself invincible. I assure you, you are not.” He turns to you, magazine in hand, and taps Finnick’s face on the cover. You bite your tongue so hard you taste blood. “And neither are the people you care about.”

Your throat is dry, tongue fitting uncomfortably in your mouth. You swallow and it goes down rough.

“I don’t think that at all, President Snow. I apologize if my actions came across that way. If there’s anything I can do to remedy that…?” You trail off rather pathetically.

He chuckles and cracks the first smile you’ve seen since he’s been here and it’s almost worse than his scowl. "Always so eager to please. This is not a reprimand, just a reminder. You toe the line, but as long as you do not cross it, we shouldn’t have any problems." The heels of his sensible shoes click against the wooden floor as he comes to stand before you again. "So long as you keep up your streak of good behavior, you’ll be permitted to carry on the way you have.”

“Yes, sir. I…I understand.”

He hums and goes to walk past, but stops.

"Ah, I almost forgot," he pulls an envelope from a pocket on his waistcoat and you know who it's from by the color alone, the color of sand. "You have mail." He smiles again, sharp and cruel in its kindness. It's still sealed, held between his middle and pointer finger, but you're certain he knows what the letter says already. You take it hesitantly along with the magazine.

He walks out without any farewell. The doors shut behind you. You hear shuffling and steps, but you only untense once you hear the front door open and shut. You wait there for what has to be at least thirty minutes before you even think about opening the letter.

My Star,

At the time that I’m writing this letter, it’s been two months since I’ve last seen you. I think this is the longest we’ve been apart in the past seven years. Only two months and it’s felt like a century. It’s been agonizing. It makes me wonder how I was able to survive without you for sixteen years.

I got the picture you sent me. I worry I’ll wear it thin with how often I touch it. In the absence of having you near me, I trace the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the slant of your eyes. I carry you everywhere I go.

My hands should be in yours, fingers laced together. Instead, I use them to write to you now.

I hope I can see you soon. Dreaming of you can only tide me over for so long.

-With all the love in the world and beyond,

Finnick O.

You lean back and slide down the door. You groan, knocking your head against the wood. You never thought Snow would go as far as to threaten Finnick’s life. Especially with all the popularity he’s cultivated. It doesn’t make any sense.

You lift the letter to your face, tracing his signature. You glance at the magazine. You were both so young here, couldn’t have been more than sixteen and seventeen. Your youth is encapsulated forever on a teen gossip magazine.

You rest your forehead against his, the glossy cover cool on your skin. Your body is still trying to disperse the rush of adrenaline Snow brought with him.

“You and me.” You sigh. You’re going to need all the strength you can get. For him though, it’s all worth it.

Past (xi) - Finnick

[21 & 22] - DISTRICT FOUR

Ocean water burns his eyes as he swims to shore, his muscles strain and burn as he pushes against the current. The hot sand sticks to his wet feet as he walks up the beach and he waves to a few surfers that call out to him. It’s getting colder and everyone wants to get in the water while they still can.

Finnick has always believed that good things come to those who wait. And he prides himself on being a pretty patient man. But, and there’s always a but, that patience is as good as dust when it comes to you.

It’s been four months, going on five, since he’s last seen you.

He’s been seeing you less and less over the last two years and at this point, he’d be lucky to catch a whiff of your perfume. He doesn’t get it. It’s not like he’s lost any standing in the Capitol, and based on your letters, you’re still in high demand.

It’s not like either of you can request to come to the Capitol at the same time.

He drags himself up the stairs to the Victor Village, wood creaking under his weight. When he gets to the top, he turns left instead of right—actually heading back to his beach house for once instead of Mags’s. After taking a shower, he plans on going into town with Annie. She hadn’t asked him to and she’s been doing pretty well, becoming more lucid. Yet, there’s no telling what’ll trigger her—whether it be some kind of commotion that sounds too much like a canon or someone’s outfit that too closely resembles what she wore in the arena. He’d rather be safe than sorry.

Plus, he’s expecting a very important letter any day now.

When he finally gets to the sand road in front of the village, he hears the horn of a ship in the distance. He glances behind him and spots the biggest fishing boat in the district. The Cod Be Ever in Your Favor . He scoffs. That thing’s been around longer than he has and it’s a rite of passage for everyone to go out to sea on her at least once.

His father was a deckhand and he adored the job like it was his lover. He was rarely ever home—something Finnick was very grateful for. He never inherited that passion for the high seas and he had to learn the hard way that he’s much more adept in the water than above it. He’s crossing his fingers that the old relic capsizes one day. He’s not hoping anyone gets hurt or anything, but he will be celebrating the day that hunk of junk gets turned into scrap metal.

“On your right!” Finnick jumps to the left as a man on a bike zips past him.

Cars aren't driven down here. It’s too close to the ocean and the cars manufactured in Six aren’t built to handle the terrain. But they’re substituted by the electrical bikes fashioned specifically for the coastal towns of Four.

Palm trees sway in the stiff wind before a line of three-story buildings. He has no immediate neighbors, the beach houses on either side of his lay empty and desolate. Tributes from Four aren’t that rare compared to lower districts—the latest victor being Annie. But, with being a wealthier district, comes access to more substances. Morphling overdoses are the leading cause of death for victors in districts one through six. Followed closely by alcohol poisoning and, well, the Capitol itself. Just in the past five years, the population dropped from seven to three.

He remembers them.

Emilia Killroy, found washed up and bloated on the shore. Rían Hugh, struck by a car further into the city after stumbling into the street. He was so drunk, he wouldn’t have felt it.

Lottie MacHale and her son, Lukas. Lukas left the games mentally and physically disfigured. His game was a disaster that led to the untimely death of the previous Gamemaker and the implementation of Seneca Crane. A winter tundra that froze two-thirds of the tributes. The frostbite took the entirety of Lukas’s left leg and all the fingers on his right hand. He was found by his mother with a needle in his arm sans a pulse. Truly, it was a wonder he lasted as long as he did.

It didn't take long for Lottie to follow him. Drowned in her vomit after drowning in her liquor, but everyone always said she died of a broken heart.

He remembers them all.

He slams the door shut behind him, eager to take a shower. His swim trunks are laden with water, getting dragged down his hips from the weight. Saltwater drips between his wet feet on the hardwood floor and weighs down his hair. He slicks it back so he can see where he’s going as he walks past the living room.

He pauses, taking a few steps back to see…President Snow sitting on his couch? Finnick leans to the side to glance down the hallway and yep, Peacekeepers are milling around his back door. He bets as soon as he came in a few sprang out from wherever they were hiding to guard the front door behind him.

“President Snow. This is a surprise.” And far from a pleasant one. Finnick smiles, mask slipping into place, but Snow has unbalanced him. “What’s this all about?” It can’t be anything good. He can’t say he’s ever heard of Snow making a house call.

“I apologize for barging in on you like this, Mr. Odair, but this is an urgent matter.” He crosses his ankle over his knee and Finnick hedges into the room. Cautiously, feeling like a wary animal walking into a trap.

Briefly, he’s reminded of something you told him. You had mentioned off-handedly that you’ve eaten frogs in Eleven. He couldn’t wrap his mind around how you’d get it into the hot water while it was alive and you said you have to trick it. You put the frog in the water while it’s still cool and then slowly you raise the heat without it noticing. Eventually, the water is boiling and the frog is trapped.

“And what matter is that?” Snow stares at him thoughtfully for a moment and in Finnick’s experience, that’s never good. He hums before speaking and Finnick imagines steam rising around him as Snow cranks the heat up.

“Are you aware of what purpose keeping the districts isolated from each other serves?”

“No, Sir, I don’t.” He lies, but he’s sure Snow will give him his own twisted, convoluted reason. Finnick is well aware that Snow enforces this rule because it keeps the citizens ignorant. Ensuring they only really know about their district means there can be no real unionizing.

“Panem as a nation runs on a very delicate balance of hope. Too little and the people become despondent. Too much and the people begin to think—the people begin to rebel . For the citizens to see two victors from drastically different districts have such an intimate relationship, that complicates things.”

“...You think we’ll spark a rebellion? Just by being together?”

Snow releases a raspy breath that might have been a laugh once upon a time and the water is getting hotter. “I think it will lead to people envisioning a future where such things are allowed. I know you will cause a rebellion. You see,” he sighs, “the civilians are as subdued as they will ever be. But this will have them questioning their circumstances. It will take them out of the ‘us vs. them’ mentality they have against each other. It will make them wonder just how much they have in common and that leads to them seeing each other as people. It doesn’t help that you are both such influential figures. They will rebel, from One to Twelve, and they will all share the same fate as Thirteen.”

“Is this…because she’s from Eleven?” He knows, thanks to you, that the people of Eleven are particularly defiant in the face of the Capitol’s oppressive ruling and always have been. Understandably so considering no one feels it more severely than they do. He holds back a scoff. To think he thought Four was rebellious. At most, Four has the privilege of throwing temper tantrums knowing they’ll face no real repercussions. Eleven, on the other hand, riots knowing they’ll be punished grievously.

Snow, again, takes a moment to watch him. “Her being from that particular district does make a rebellion far more likely, yes.” He pulls a forest-green envelope from a pocket inside his blazer. The exact letter he’s been waiting for. He doesn’t acknowledge it, so neither does Finnick.

“Of course, you can continue as you have and I’ll take it upon myself to handle it. Though, I doubt you’ll like the solution I come up with. She's one of my most popular female victors. And I can admit, I've grown rather fond of her." Snow chuckles and Finnick feels sick. He looks down at the envelope clutched in Snow's hand and pictures your arm in its place. He doesn't want to think about what happened behind closed doors to make Snow grow so fond of you. "It would be hard to replace her," Snow nods along to himself, "but not impossible." The room is quiet for a moment before Finnick asks, "What are you saying?" After working so closely with Snow for so long, you learn his language of non-speaking. You hear the silent threats in between the carefully crafted rebuttals. You feel the weight of his deliberate silence. So, Finnick knows exactly what Snow's saying. Snow knows this too, which is why he says, "Don't act daft, Mr. Odair. It doesn't suit you." He's twenty-two years old—a grown man, but, suddenly, he’s fourteen again—sitting in that chair, backed against a wall as Snow forces him to sign his soul away. He’s still that scared kid. He’s never outgrown him, because he never got the chance to grow up. Not if Snow had any say in the matter.

“As I said, this can only end in pain. It’s up to you to decide who will end up bloody. The lives of thousands over the life of one. Surely, you understand that.” He doesn’t. Finnick doesn’t understand it at all. It doesn’t matter what the other option is, he’s picking you every time without fail. He can’t imagine doing otherwise, he doesn’t want to.

“Unless you can think of something else, I don’t see any other way for us to proceed past this.” Snow moves his hand in a sweeping motion, the closest thing to a shrug that he’ll do. Finnick doesn’t understand why he came to him . He clearly favors you, so why threaten your life?

“Why me? Why are you making me choose? Wh-why,” he looks down to the floor, to the space between his feet, “Why not her?” If there was a choice on who would survive between you and him, he wants it to be you. Is that selfish? To wish you were the one given the choice instead of him. It feels unimaginable to live in a world without you, so is that cruel to expect you to do the same?

To love is to be human. To be human is to be flawed. And there’s no one more flawed than Finnick Odair.

“You’ve been around longer.” He shrugs as if it’s all so simple. “It only seems fair.” Fair. When the hell did he start caring about what’s fair? He didn’t even think that word was in Snow’s vocabulary, and, honestly, it still might not be because he isn’t using it right. There is nothing fair about this situation.

Snow uncrosses his legs and leans forward, a glint in his ghastly eyes. He looks worse every time he sees him and Finnick wishes he could get any satisfaction from it but he just feels as sick as Snow looks.

“It doesn’t,” Finnick shakes his head, “It doesn’t have to come to that. I’ll…I’ll handle it. I–I’ll end it.” The words are out of his mouth before he can even comprehend them, mouth moving faster than his brain and by the time it catches up, it’s too late to snatch the words out of the air. They float between them and they are terrifying .

Snow nods at the idea and…and he realizes it’s over. It’s all over. It was over as soon as Finnick sat down across from him, maybe even before that.

“See that you do. I trust you’ll take care of this issue without my stepping in.” As Snow stands, he holds the envelope up to his nose and takes a long, obnoxious sniff. "Hmm, it even smells like her." His smile is nauseating, Finnick’s stomach turns at the sight of it. “Spritz of perfume? A nice touch.” His steps are unhurried, taking his time to approach Finnick’s tense form.

“And Finnick?” He pulls away before Finnick can take it from him, playing with him even now. “Go easy on the poor girl. I imagine she’ll be quite torn up over this.” The water is boiling. The water is boiling and it’s too late to get out.

Finnick says nothing, but it seems like Snow isn’t expecting him to. He hands him the letter and walks to the door without a backward glance.

Two Peacekeepers follow him out, the door shutting behind them softly, and that nags at him. How dare they ruin his life and leave like—like this was just a social call? As if this isn’t crumbling his foundations, the same foundations that support the home he’s built with you.

Snow handed him a box of matches and told him to burn that home to the ground.

He looks at the envelope, wet with his fingerprints, and Finnick…

Finnick rushes to the bathroom to vomit.

A/N: why'd y'all let me cook 😕😕😕 come yell at me in my inbox!!! damn y'all were Peeta and Katniss b4 Peeta and Katniss 🤭🤭 and sage is such a peeta variant, all these Peeta variants falling in love with you uh, an actual lil author's note moment: when watching Catching Fire, I noticed the people in District Eleven dress like black people did in the 1950s and 60s while incorporating elements from the Antebellum South. Since most of the people that live there are black and indigenous and Eleven is the most oppressed district, it makes sense. It’s interesting what the clothing the people in different districts wear says about the culture there and what kind of culture Suzanne Collins based that district on. The Shacktowns are the District Eleven equivalent to the Seam in District Twelve, but even Katniss was surprised by how badly the people lived. She basically said it made twelve look like a paradise in comparison. When I mention the rich elites in Eleven, imagine them being around the same financial standing as Katniss was before she was reaped. So…not much.

#and they'd find us in a week #hunger games catching fire #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games smut #the hunger games #thg finnick #thg series #thg #the hunger games x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair smut #angst #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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ifearzombies · 1 year

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Even More Headcanons About Living In The HoL

First post here: [x]

Second post here: [x]

- You have purchased a fridge for your room for personal snacks and drinks that you don’t want to share. You... still end up sharing. Beel’s pouty face is hard to say no to.

- You also have a microwave. You tend to keep a few boxes of popcorn for Beel in your room. It’s cheap and easy so he can normally snack on that for quite a bit before he needs something more substantial.

- Because you have a fridge, Asmo got a mini one for his room to store his products in so that Beel would stop eating them and thinking they were snacks.

- You cannot and do not watch Food Network or shows about food. The shows tend to make you hungry. They make Beelzebub absolutely feral and after trying to watch a cooking competition show he ate the entire refrigerator. Not just the food. The ACTUAL fridge. Lucifer was glad that you said ‘never again’ and never had to make it an official rule.

- Satan’s room occasionally gets so disastrous he sleeps in your room. Until Lucifer figures out the reason why and forces him to spend time cleaning his room.

- For the Wheelchair races (the electric one Dia bought you and Luce bought for household shenanigans), the overall winner is Luke. He’s so light the chair zips around pretty quickly. Belphie is second. Last place is Beel. He’s so much muscle, the wheelchair can barely move when he gets on it.

- You were fortunate enough to witness one of the very rare times Lucifer and Satan got physical in their fights. This would normally be horrific. However the two LITERALLY butted heads with their horns out and the two got tangled up and you recorded the two of them trying to untangle themselves before finally telling them they can just go back to human form. They had been too upset to think of that solution.

- Levi figured out you have a tail kink and now whenever he’s in the mood, he’s started to poke at you with his tail. Wrapping it around your leg, poking your side... He’s slowly getting more assertive with it. It stopped for awhile when Mammon realized what Levi was doing and teased him, but a proper shaming of Mammon and reassurance to Levi fixed that.

- Mammon has discovered Disney and he loves every single Disney Princess movie. He ugly cries during a lot of them (Mulan was the roughest cry). His favorite is Mulan because her love for her family led her to great dangers. So he relates to her the most.

- Belphie has told you exactly how entwined he and Beel’s twin link is. He’s described exact food he’s eating. And even can describe what sexual acts you and Beel are doing and that it makes him jealous when he can feel it. He was surprised you found it strange, but you did tell him that human twins don’t have links that strong.

- You HAVE had serious discussions with ALL of your loved ones about the day where circumstances and life or position (for Diavolo) where you might have to choose one of them to marry. Truthfully, none of the conversations have ended on particularly happy notes. They have been understanding; just sad. The overall consensus is that it’d be down to Solomon, Lucifer, or Diavolo. Solomon because the two of you ARE human. And you two would be a power couple of Human Realm ambassadors. Lucifer because the way your pact with him works is you belong to him (something that actually really upset everyone when they found out). And Diavolo because he is the Prince of the Devildom and if the two of you wed it would solidify the relationship of the three realms being in good enough a situation where an inter-species marriage to royalty is not just possible, but accepted. Right now, there is no pressure to choose. No one wants you to (accept maybe Solomon) because it means they lose an aspect of you that they’re not willing to. Simeon was extremely upset he was not one of the top contenders, but he couldn’t even advocate for him to be since he knew their marriage wouldn’t be allowed in the Celestial Realm.

- You and Solomon discussed it and he’s made you immortal like him. No one wants to lose you. And you don’t want to lose them.

- Your family has messaged you from the human realm and asked if you can see departed loved ones. You asked Diavolo about it and It would be possible. But after talking to Lucifer and the brothers, you figured it was best you didn’t.

- You and Asmo have started to listen to reddit drama stories while pampering yourselves. Asmo’s a very gossip-y person so having real drama to listen to makes his day and he gets to talk to you about it while you get your nails done.

- You no longer buy food-like squeakies for Cerberus. Not after Beel ate the burger one and had squeaking hiccups.

- You’ve told Lucifer about Kong toys. He was overjoyed that there was super-durable dog toys he went to the Human Realm and bought a bunch for Cerberus. It was the happiest you’d seen the dog(s?) in a little while.

- Barbatos learned of your tail kink and when he’s feeling cheeky, he’ll go to demon form around you and move his tail. He gives you a knowing smirk when you blush.

- You took Beel to the Human Realm and took him to a food court at a mall and went and took him to each place at the Food court. He was so happy he teared up a little.

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catofoldstones · 2 months

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The Ashford Theory and my patience running thin

Welcome, welcome my guys, gals and non-binary pals, to another scream into the void that the Ashford theory is, in fact, very jonsa

On to the arguments!

1. The suitor has to have the correct last name, not family, look at Joffrey Baratheon, you stupid jonsa

Hypothesis - the suitor has to have the corresponding name, not family, and because Jon is a Snow he’s out of the running. The other prong is fAegon who is actually a Blackfyre and not Targeryen, who can also be the suitor.

Thesis - Joffrey is the only other suitor to have a different name. Joffrey and Jon have also been set up as foils from the start of AGOT. Joffrey is a bastard masquerading as the rightful king and Jon is the rightful king (thrice crowned) masquerading as a bastard. It makes sense that they are the only two suitors to have the wrong name as this establishes them as inverses in another way. The last suitor being the foil of the horrible first suitor thereby showing character growth, and plot progression and resolution? Count me in.

As for Young Griff being a Blackfyre, here’s a meta or two, maybe even an argument, for him being the real Aegon VI Targaryen but take my personal fav evidences of Tyrion figuring out that Young Griff is Aegon VI Targaryen and then, Varys literally telling a dying Kevan Lannister about the true Targaryen prince and why would you lie to a dying man? How does that serve your purpose?

This is literally grrm telling us who Young Griff actually is, though this does not count him I out of the contenders, it reduces the weight of him being the fifth suitor, due to story arcs and well, his doomed fate.

Conclusion - While Aegon VI is a strong contender, there is much, much more literary weight and nuance with Jon being the Targaryen suitor.

2. Lady Ashford was not crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty by any champion!!! Take that jonsas

Hypothesis - tQoLaB is a title analogous to a betrothal/love interest

Thesis - there have been no allusions to the title of tQoLaB while trying to foreshadow a relationship, except for a really, really bad one (r + l) that plunged the whole realm into a civil war and we should not take that as a good sign

Conclusion - we’re grasping at straws here besties

3. Dunk disrupted the Ashford Tourney, therefore Sxndxr will disrupt Sansa’s prospects and other things

Hypothesis - Dunk & Sxndxr are are analogous and since there was no conclusion to the Tourney we can safely assume that it’s sxnsxn foreshadowing

Thesis - Brienne is the Dunk asoiaf corollary, not Sxndxr. Brienne is theorized to be Dunk’s descendant. She even has her shield painted like Dunk’s, apart from their striking character parallels and being a true foil to all the other knights in the story. Mr. Gravedigger is just tall :/

“Your door reminded me of an old shield I once saw in my father’s armory.”

Brienne II, AFFC

Brienne has Dunk’s shield in her family home possibly because she’s a descendant of Dunk but then goes ahead and gets her shield painted exactly like this one

“[The painted shield] was more a picture than a proper coat of arms, and the sight of it took her back through the long years, to the cool dark of her father’s armory. She remembered how she’d run her fingertips across the cracked and fading paint, over the green leaves of the tree, and along the path of the falling star.”

Brienne II, AFFC

Secondly, just because the tourney did not have a (satisfactory) conclusion does not mean that the tourney did not exist to serve a purpose. I doubt grrm would likely give out his whole story as early as 1998.

Conclusion - BRIENSA 4eva!!!!!

4. Valarr Targaryen died of a sickness and Aegon VI is doomed to die and is connected to a sickness, are you looking at the nerves popping out of my thick, brainy skull

Thesis - the fifth suitor is 100% Aegon and there’s no one else

Hypothesis - there is a Targaryen.. currently dead.. in the books… (thnk u @istumpysk for ur galaxy brain). The plague in the story serves to connects Aegon more to Dany than to a northern girl he doesn’t know about and might not like since she’s a Stark and his mother is Elia Martell.

Conclusion - jonsa

5. This is all a coincidence & u jonsas are reaching as always

Hypothesis - though george is known to tie every deep end, every crack theory, even farfetched ones that the readers have not caught, this one thing completely skipped his notice because exceptions are always there

Thesis - yes, because this is acotar & not asoiaf and he’s not grrm, i am

Conclusion - JONSAAAAAAAAAAAA

#ashford theory #jonsa #anti sansan #long post #don’t look #rewrote it because i am a loosely string piñata & god is a 6 yr old girl hungry for more chocolate candy #:/#thank you everyone for your patience #and uh pls remember #I tried #thnk u

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indigovigilance · 7 months

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When They Became Their Own Side

Can I just say that gif-clipping the scenes to make this meta broke my heart all over again so good job JF, NG, MS & DT.

Anyways.

I'm going to discuss the major contenders for "the scene in which Aziraphale and Crowley became their own side," and then tell you when I think it happened, below the cut:

Identifying the Third Side

By the time you clicked "Keep reading" you probably had a scene in mind. I'm going to predict it was this:

Which is an extremely strong contender, though frankly this entire scene is filled with character-trajectory changing lines (Satan bless you JF), so I'll take it as within-error-limits if you picked anything immediately adjacent to this.

The reasoning behind it is solid: Aziraphale knows, on a spiritual level, that he is not on Heaven's team anymore. He fully expects to go to Hell. He's ready.

But he finds out that he's not going to Hell. Despite Crawley's statement that nothing has to change, we know that everything has changed for Aziraphale. Neither truly a part of Heaven nor or Hell, he now knows that he occupies the liminal third space, a realm that has been home to Crawley for quite some time. Yes, it is lonely, but maybe a little less lonely than it was before, or would have been; where once there was only one, now there are two. By the end of this scene, they both know that they are on the same side, a third side, and the pain of separation that entails. But being and knowing are different things, and I would argue that Aziraphale was on Crowley's side before he realized it, which means we have to go further back.

The Revelation of Confluence

Maybe you thought of this:

...and this scene is a great choice, because as of this moment Aziraphale knows (and Crowley knows he knows) that they have a confluence of goals and morals. Every action in the rest of Book of Job is based on the common understanding and trust relationship they establish in this scene. But again, did they need to know that they were on the same side to be on the same side? Their moral compasses would still have aligned and they would still be working for common purpose even if Aziraphale had not uncovered the ruse. I would still say we could go further back.

Establishing Loyalty

Perhaps, trying to beat me to the punch, you went back so far that you went off the page, so to speak, to Before the Beginning:

A rare but solid choice, and entirely defensible. Aziraphale has just met Crowley and rather than ratting him out or letting him face the very just and deserved consequences that the Almighty would exact upon such a divergent, free-thinking celestial, Aziraphale gives him advice to keep him safe. He is protecting the Starmaker from Heaven, which seems to put him on the Starmaker's side in opposition to Heaven. Aziraphale's first loyalty is to his principles, stretching his proverbial wing over the Starmaker to shield him from the reign of the Almighty, and no, that wasn't a spelling mistake. We see as well that the Starmaker, quite explicitly, puts his principles first. In this way the two are similarly defective (in the sense that they are defectors), but their principles don't strictly overlap here. Neither of them are fully on Heaven's side, but it would be a stretch to say that they are on the same side.

More importantly, the Starmaker isn't really on anyone's side; the Starmaker doesn't even seem to be aware that there are sides! Just a project that would benefit from some suggestions, a fresh point of view. So they certainly aren't on Aziraphale's side. But the fact that Aziraphale has tried to protect them is important, and I will reference it later, so hang onto that thought.

Forming Trust

Maybe you're a real dreamer, and your beautiful brain lighted upon this scene:

Absolutely brilliant, tumblrite, because Aziraphale isn't even going to tell God that he gave away the flaming sword to a pregnant girl, in fact he'll lie about it to every angel he encounters until the end of days.

But he told Crawley.

Aziraphale puts his fate in this demon's hands when he shares this; after all, what's to stop the serpent of Eden from ratting him out and getting him into Big Trouble? But the thought that Crawley might betray him never seems to occur to Aziraphale, and it seems that his trust is well-placed, because as we know, Crawley will never betray this confidence.

Taken in combination with Before the Beginning, Aziraphale has both kept secrets for the Starmaker and entrusted Crawley with his own secret. This bilateral trust bond is the foundation that "our side" will be built upon.

Nonetheless, up on that wall, Aziraphale still wonders if he's done the right thing, and takes reassurance that yes, being an angel and doing the right thing go hand in hand. After this, Aziraphale will continue to make choices that betray his principles, opting to instead follow the Will of God (see: the Flood). He is on Heaven's side, and whatever Crawley may be, it isn't that.

I think we can safely say that as of this moment, Crawley (besides being head over heels in love), who is already on his own side, is ready to welcome Aziraphale into that space with him, but that Aziraphale isn't taking him up on the invitation yet.

So while it's true that they have a unique bond as of this scene, it still isn't a side.

When Aziraphale accepts the invitation to the Third Side

Sure, Crowley has been on Aziraphale's side since the moment he invented heart eyes in the Garden of Eden, but Aziraphale didn't join Crowley's side until this exact moment:

We were all a little too busy being pissed at Gabriel for this line to realize that he single-handedly brought together the greatest power couple above or below the Earth.

We are simply not stopping Hell.

What they do is up to them.

Aziraphale has exhausted all his options appealing to Heaven to save Job's children, and in this moment, he realizes (because Gabriel tells him directly) that if he wants to save them, he's going to have to go behind Heaven's back to do it.

Crawley and Aziraphale aren't even in the same room. But Aziraphale, at this moment, has turned his back on Heaven and joined Crawley's team.

Crawley just doesn't know it yet.

But Aziraphale is about to go down there and tell him:

A few other meta-analysts have written on the topic of equivocation: communicating in deliberately ambiguous ways so that the person across from you understands your meaning and any unseen spectators do not. (I personally learned this term from @cobragardens, in this meta, and @ao3cassandraic's discussion of kayfabe is a closely related topic)

We should interpret the ensuing scene (which deserves a meta all its own, like this one by @majortomyourcurcuitsdead) through that lens. "You don't have to" and "I know you" are all, on their face, harmless statements, but are all equivocation for:

We are on the same side.

Crowley is understandably wary, and isn't about to let Aziraphale know that he's been clocked. But whatever pretense that he was maintaining dissolves right about here:

Circling back to the top, yes, this is the moment that they each know they know. But knowing that they were on the same side was not a necessary condition of being on the same side. Aziraphale, when he made the decision that any further appeal to Heaven was futile, and that he must appeal instead to Crawley for mercy, had already jumped into the liminal with both feet.

Crawley will try to deny it, but they both know what's up:

In Summary

This distinction may not be important, but the theme of sides is so strong that this felt like a topic worth exploring.

The argument that Aziraphale enters and exits the third team is also a very defensible one; he will denounce and then rejoin Crowley across the millennia to come. But the first time he makes the decision that he will work with Crawley to collude against Heaven and Hell occurs at the very moment when Gabriel tells him that that is the only remaining option if he wants to do the right thing.

Which raises the question: was offering Satan a contract to terrorize Job, assigning a morally ambiguous demon to execute it, and sending in a renegade angel to thwart it all part of the Ineffable Plan?

I'll let you decide.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands

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irisintheafterglow · 8 months

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Polish Up Real Nice! (bnha boys x you)

summary: hcs about taking care of yourself and taking care of the boys (with bakugo, shoto, izuku, kirishima, and denki)

cw/tags: swearing cuz bakugo is here, sickeningly cheesy fluff, the tiniest little bit of angst, pet names (love, babe, baby, sweetheart, lovey)

note: this is your reminder to take good fucking care of yourself because you deserve to feel loved !!!

likes, reblogs, and feedback is always appreciated <3

Bakugo Katsuki

he has a longer skincare routine than you

does not matter if your routine is 2 steps or 10

he absolutely has a more complex regimen

will hide your body wash/shampoo to force you to use his instead

he likes it when you smell like him because he doesn't know how to voice his fuckin emotions any other way

it's ok !!! we love him anyway !!!

will automatically assume you're using his stuff if he starts running out

"babe, do you know what the fuck happened to my serums?"

"no, love, i'm sorry"

"you're not using them behind my back, are you?"

"i can't read half of the instructions on that tiny-ass bottle."

"it's self-explanatory-"

"it's also $100 for literally 2 milliliters, kats."

"that's a no, then."

it was denki lmao he was over at your house trying to figure out which bottle was soap

also has a haircare routine but not as strict as skincare

he'll just put leave-in conditioner if he wants it to look extra fluffy

MELTS when you massage oil into his scalp

he would rather die than wear one of those cutesy face masks

but he's over here putting fucking cucumbers on his eyes

you have a photo of him with a clay mask on and cucumbers over his eyes that he doesn't know you took

immediately sent it to his friends and now every single contact photo is of that picture

his love language is most definitely not words of affirmation but i think quality time is a strong contender

so when you're both getting ready in the morning he'll wordlessly hand you bottles of products without you asking because he's memorized your habits too <3

Todoroki Shoto

has like????? no skincare routine??????

man is just effortlessly pretty

for a long time he'd just use whatever momo or his mom recommended to him

when he started dating you and you asked about his skincare routine, he was the definition of confused

he was like

"i wash it??"

"no, but like with what product, sweetheart?"

"soap??"

despite not having much of a routine for himself, he will buy you WHATEVER you want

does not matter if the product costs more than the fucking moon

he'll have at least two bottles of it in your house at all times so you never run out

whenever he visits the store or has an assistant out shopping for him, he'll ask if you need anything (applies to basically everything but especially selfcare items)

when you do a facemask with him your favorite part is tying back his hair and giving him a tiny little sprout on the top of his head

also melts when you massage hair oil into his scalp

but he likes to give you massages more

could be with lotion or body wash, doesn't matter

will heat and/or cool his body depending on what you need

he likes running his hands over your skin until you're on the verge of falling asleep

and then he'll just lie down next to you and press his body against yours

Midoriya Izuku

doesn't really know much about skincare but is very eager to learn!!

adores doing facemasks with you

will pick up silly little animal masks from the store while he's on patrol

"look, it's a penguin."

"zuku, my love, where did you get these?"

"on patrol today."

"you're supposed to be stopping villains, babe."

"to be fair, i did kick the hell out of some thieves before buying them."

"ah, so you rewarded yourself."

"by being able to spend time with you, yes."

when he comes home late from a mission or from patrol and he's too tired to take care of his curls, you do it for him

just taking care of him in general when his body is physically unable to do it

which is quite often because you know, he's fucking deku

you'll lead him to the bath and make sure the water is warm beforehand

after he's settled and you clean any pressing wounds, you start working on his hair

he almost falls asleep right there, with your fingers gently rubbing product into his curls

you have to gently wake him to remind him to rinse

will sleepily watch you put on lip balm and then ask to try it

when you hand it out to him, he shakes his head

you smile and he kisses it off your lips

"that's pretty good. keep wearing it, please."

Kirishima Eijiro

probably uses a simple face wash and moisturizer

sometimes uses toner if you remind him but he doesn't really need it since his skin doesn't get super oily

he has a hand care routine

does that even exist??

it does now !

one of your nightly routines with him is rubbing lotion into his palms

because of his quirk, they can get really, really rough and dry

his skin in general gets beat up the most

he tries to remember to put lotion on but he's so busy that he forgets often

he also likes it better when you're sitting across from him and dotingly running your thumb along his palms

despite having a lot of callouses, it's one of the more sensitive spots on his body

"what is it, eiji?"

"that tickles."

he also asks you if you can help him take care of his nails, too

they tend to get roughed up during battles and he also sometimes picks at his cuticles absentmindedly

you help him clean up the nailbeds and scrub dirt from under the fingernails

he watches you like you painted the stars in the sky

when he comes out of the shower and his hair is down, he'll shake his head like a dog if you're in close proximity

effectively hitting you with water like a lawn sprinkler

the absolute KING of physical affection self-care

if you've had a hard day sometimes the one thing you need is just for him to lay his entire body weight on you

"can i ask a favor, babe?"

"anything, lovey."

"work was shit today, could you-"

he's already throwing himself at you and burying you both into the couch cushions

Kaminari Denki

definitely used hand soap to wash his face before dating you

instead of hiding your body wash to make you smell like him, he likes to use your products instead to make him smell like you

because of the videos you send him, most of his social media feed is influencers doing product reviews

he'll send you those product reviews and ask if it's legit or not

if you say it's legit, he'll buy it for you even if you didn't ask for it

"the fuck is this?"

"looks like some crystal roller thing, i don't know."

"baby, you're the one that bought it."

"to be fair, i black out every time i press 'proceed to cart,' so i don't remember doing it."

LOVES taking pictures and videos while you're doing self-care together

he's a sucker for the domestic life what can i say

will play music while you're trying to do your routine and take videos of him just spinning you around your bathroom

his skin also tends to dry out because of his quirk and sometimes he just needs a nice, long soak

will adamantly try to convince you to join him

not in a sexual way but in a matter of he has a small water gun hiding below the surface of the bubbles

instead of doing deep pressure therapy for you, sometimes he needs it from you

it gets hard for him, being a conduit of such a volatile quirk, and he needs you to remind him that his body isn't just a weapon

therefore he likes to just walk up behind you and ask to put his arms around you or just hold you

because he needs it

and deep down?

you need it too

if you think this was self indulgent then you are absolutely correct;

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bakugo x you #todoroki x you #deku x you #kirishima x you #denki x you #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons

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